I am a woman without a home. wandering the streets, shouldering all that my life has become.
I hide underneath the street lamp. In the light, yet invisible, to sing my song and give voice to all that is lost. all that I cannot return to.
My home is a torture chamber where death awaits.
I am its keeper, its dark angel, running to keep up as it drains more and more away.
Trying to grab what life I can, to hold it close and not let it go so I don’t forget what it is to breathe.
I shelter those inside, taking the force of the blows, trying to endure the chill of the ice as it slowly gains ground.
holding those around me up, so their feet don’t touch it.
Exhausted, I give in and we are lost in the snow and sleep starts to come.
But I find a torch and dig a tunnel to try again.
There is the sun. it still shines. we will not rest until we find the light. we cannot give in and let this winter consume us.