The Summer to My Winter [Freeverse Poetry]

In Poetry by FaythFuILeave a Comment

Those eyes, they look upon me – Deep inside me! Seeing, but speaking to me, looking past the numbness of my face, and into my mind.

They hold me there and I find myself looking, far away, off into the distance, because those eyes that you look at me with(!), I just can’t seem to meet them.

Is it because I’m not used to that warmth? That soft fire that flickers behind the eyes of a person that cares, even through the coldness of my flesh, the frost that resides around my joints, around my heart.

Is the frost fading? Is my melancholy melody melting away?

Am I allowing myself, carefully once again (for my heat once matched the sun), to embrace you, that small frame, those strong hands, those gentle eyes, those purposeful words, that knowing silence. 

You always were that knowing silence, weren’t you? Holding my hands, as cold as icicles, warming them with that fire settled behind your ribs.

Patient, though, you have been patient, with me, the girl who is Winter, and when you look at me, I feel as if Spring is slowly coming, as if the shadow was no longer seen, the seeds in my lungs finally sprouting, to fill me with tulips and roses, and all the flowers I loved when I was young. 

For so long, I’ve seemed to accept that I am Winter. So fitting, as the season of cold and death comes at the end of years and remains as time flurries forward. 

I have convinced myself that I am at the end. That Winter is the only season I am meant to be, because inside me is the arctic, the glaciers of feeling, frozen behind the cracks in my ribs.

But I am thawing. Because of you.

I thought that I could evade this warmth, to remain in the frozen north of my conscious, but… you melt me. With those eyes! The swirls behind them, the love that fertilizes the soil inside me, the juvenile stems that curl around my cold, cracked ribs, binding them, healing them, slowly, but surely. 

I am Winter and you are Summer, carrying me to Spring, to the place where the young flowers grow, unimpeded by the harshness of snow.

Thank you for looking past the frost in my heart.

Thank you for looking past the ice in my veins.

Thank you for looking past my glaciers of fragile feeling.

And thank you for being the Summer to my Winter,

The warmth that coaxes the seeds inside me to grow.

The seeds that have seemed to be dormant for so, so long.

Leave a Comment