Missing arrows

Shot far over decades of want

Aiming to meld

One soul to another


I see a field of tall grain

I feel a gust of wind

A careless gust

That seizes across the expanse

Of my barley, flax and rye


You careless wind

You thoughtless storm

You destructive force

You tall sequoia rotting from within

You gentle warm and sheltering bastion

You hunter

You march into territories reckless and cruel


Once I went to hold some snow

These two very hands

Unscarred, unwrinkled

Small, bare and grasping

I held that accumulation of flakes in my hand

I watched ice melt

I sensed something new

I grabbed more of the snow

Sunk my hands in

And they began to ache

The bones and the nerves sent messages to me



Difficult to move


So cold


Tell me

Why are you made of snow?

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