There is something I have always cherished about the Appalachian winter. The beauty is almost painful. I found words for it.
perhaps it’s the carpet of snow
the naked, silver lined trees
the unapologetic quiet
the fierce and defiant winds—
with a fury that could kill
a stillness that not only asks us, but yearns for us to travel deeper and deeper within ourselves, revealing the liquid eyes of the soul
the forest, a beating heart I can hear under the crunch of snow beneath my feet
my fiery spirit wants to charge into wild oblivion, to dance until my feet are cold and sore
Only to be reminded to return to whatever I fled
to keep singing from the very wounds I once tried to hide
unbridled and raw
and to sit under the trees and breath—nothing gets through this life alone.
Love for the Journey,
Anisha