Winter Has Left Unnoticed

It seems that you are inconsolable. The lights flickering at the almost unnoticed edges of contentment leave you sadder than you were before. Everywhere you turn, the traces of things once known come hurling at you. At break neck speed. The knowledge to evade has left, you have become the bull’s eye. Sadness is your kindest companion, a true ally in every hardship, a sincere friend in this wholly insincere world. Consoling words fall right off, court jesters face sure beheading upon this task presented: to chase the sadness from you heart. It seems comfortable, habituated and you seem at peace, content with the circumstance. Must you brave this cold night all alone? Must you wander these desperate streets without the warm words to balm your neck like a woolen scarf? You bow your head in agreement: that you must and you must alone and you must in gloom.
 

Some words can only surface from the dark. On a clear day, with the sun brightly shining, some thoughts will not form. The pool of sorrow creates them and catapults them into daylight when it has been long dark outside. The breeding ground for words that change is your inconsolable heart. The heart that has not been hurt, has not been pained, has not been broken. It has only been left alone, it is merely lonely. The lonely heart dips further into the pool of sorrow. Further and further until it is drowned then saved by a rope made up of truths that leak darkness. The page captures the drops, here a gasping wound, there a broken wing, all becoming inconsolable, with time passing ever more reluctant to dry on sun drenched beds amidst hearty, tall grass. Protect them I must, protect your broken parts I must. So I run in search of you to cover your shivering spirit with my warm, loving, unending tearful collection of words.

 

Will we ever see winter turn into spring together? Spend a day watching the trees grow their magnificent leaves? Muster all their strength to bring to life their most vulnerable parts. Then you mourn for winter has left unnoticed.  The frost, the snow, the ice have vanished without a teardrop. The trees are busy living, the sun is busy shining stronger, the lovely snowflakes have parted and may never return. Winter has accepted the constant abuse, the bitter reception when it arrives and the loud, joyful, shameless celebration when it leaves. Disdain at its every effort to decorate our lands. Winter’s soul is not broken, never drowns in the sadness but may one day decide to not come again. Visiting these lands where contempt reigns pushes winter further into the pool of sorrow. Winter, just like you, is inconsolable. Gently sweeps through, enters slowly and leaves abruptly, these people sing and dance too loud when it dies. Who will revive winter next time? You wonder as you stand alone somewhere near where winter has last been.

In all your sadness I see an unending beauty, an unthreatening willingness to document these emotions. Your love for the words that emerge one by one brings tenderness that can only live with an understanding for the sometimes dark birthplace. Please never forget to use these words wisely, make them lure you closer, make them give you freedom to explain the unending sorrow, the rightful sadness, the tears that uncontrollably flow at the sight of the seasons changing, people hating, love disappearing. Whisper to me that you see where I am even if I stand in darkness, trapped, unable to move except to the beat of your voice. Promise that we would run into the cold aimless, to save those who have never seen the dark, inconsolable truth that guides you and me. If we are two lonely words, I want my dark to cover yours.