Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: 1998, Driving, free verse, poem, Snow
January 20, 2010
Gliding ever so slightly up that slick hill. Dozens of us spinning like sleepy tops just narrowly missing each other. So slow, traveling so very slowly. Moving with ease as we refuse to make contact.
All of a sudden it was upon us. So clear and so swift making blankets of ribbed and bumpy glass all over us and all over our quickly fading path. Motors and mechanisms, whole machines were desperately screaming.
A fervent energy filled the frigid air. All of us were intent on moving forward, although we often had to move from side to side or even backwards to get there. No one hit anyone. Even the larger helped the smaller more helpless among us.
That as twelve years ago and we’ve come so far since then. I saw four of us at a standstill with no one else around. Too cold to assist and determined to get where we needed to be. We wait there still. Another four hours. Another Twelve years.
January 15, 2010
I’m there, I sit back, I tilt, I slide down, and fall on my back
That’s all right with me.
Up at angles, at twists, at turns, at jagged spiky points
All right above me.
This is the place, this is it, this is the spot to be on my back.
I’m all there with you.
Down at bends, and burning pains, spinning visions, eyes fogged.
It doesn’t matter with you.
There is the tree. Look up at the tree. It’s coming down.
It’s coming down.
Little pale pieces, shy away from me as I breathe.
It’s coming down.
Coming down.
You’re down the path ahead of me, right there in front of me.
Right there waiting.
Distorted by branches and by the wind, your back is facing me.
Waiting there for me.
Waiting. There.
The Best Years of Our Lives 