wicked winter

the crooked limbs are slowly revealed
as if the trees are inviting me off my path
and motioning for me to come forth.

the wind whips my hair about my face
blinding me from what lays ahead
and forcing me to stand my ground.

paralyzed with a chill that has slipped under my layers
motivated to simply hibernate
where is my spring when i need it?

the road i want to travel

there is a road ahead
and already i can feel it beneath my feet.
it extends much further beyond
the distance that my eyes can see.

the end of an era

two thousand eleven.

the year of passing
and the year of loss.

the year of tears
and sleepless nights.

this has been a year of
finding oneself lost.

and this year is still
far from over.

this year has marked the end of an era.
an era where all had been well in the world.
and now it's not.

two thousand twelve.
i await you with baited breath.

until then, RIP those we have lost.
these tears they fall for you.