Frost Bitten

Gnarly, these withered limbs,
this vessel more rigidity than flow,
Winter upon me – a permanent clouding

Sunnier days passed –
oh how vivid the imagination
when blue skies met green grass,
no hindrances

Old dreams hover, tethered to fences –
defences to camouflage vulnerability,
offences to keep my paths cleared

Find balance in isolation –
an old tree, past her prime

Would cut loose this precarious hold
on all things fantastical, but
fear the act a harbinger

So, I bide my days
in this frigid limbo,
and hold on.

(Originally appeared January, 2019. Image my own)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

51 thoughts on “Frost Bitten”

  6. I really like your poem. I understand where you are coming from in you lines. I love the old tree past its prime. I hope no woodpeckers are pecking a hole in your trunk! :>)
    The other day I had to get a tooth pulled and it broke in pieces. The orthodontist was literally hammering on my stub so he could chip and edge to grab. He finally got it out.

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  9. Wonderful poem and I love your reading of it. The last line is awesome…’holding on’. The earlier stanza with the line where ‘blue skies meet green grass’ illustrates our youth so incredibly well. I also love the image of ‘old dreams hovering…tethered to a fence’. Holding onto dreams matters, regardless of our age or circumstance.

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  20. Oh my goodness…”old dreams hover”….thank you for that phrase, VJ. I feel it. And the artwork? I don’t know how you do it or what the technique is…but I love the texture. xo, dear one. 💕

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