The Thaw

My heart hangs from a tree by a fragile string,
The frost dripping from its still warmth 
In crystals of feathered lace
Belying the suddenness of the grip
That tore it from my chest and hung it out to dry
Amid uncontrollable flooding from rivers of salt

The sun continues to fall into the western abyss
Hardened by the chill it fails to warm
And darkness fills the cracks in my soul
Despite the waxing gibbous painted in the ether 
Whose feeble attempts to console me
Are swallowed up by the night.

Hark!  I hear it beating,
The meagre breaths of my frosted heart
Held trapped, in exhalation, 
Calling out in whispers that creep through time
On the well-worn path to a distant haven
While I wrap my arms around hope

And not until the sun braves morning once again
Does this foreboding loosen its stubborn grip,  
Releasing from its icy tomb, my heart, 
Rescued from the tangled branches
With the simplest of words…

Bestill, I am here.


january 2008
Janet Reid




  
Awarded by Poetic Constellations ~ Christine




  
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