On Wings of Freeze
You want me to come
out of the place where I feel
closest to myself.
You think it isn’t safe
roaming this cold wilderness
in my naked self.
You say I’ll be free
if I clip my wings and learn
to scrunch the leaves ‘neath.
But I did do that—
scrunched those leaves— it led me
to this wilderness.
In my naked self
I repose, on frozen leaves
on a winter’s wings;
1/2 …
… 2/2
aflutter-still, on
captured frame— like a poppy
field, a butterfly;
await release from
this freeze, and for frozen things
to melt; inundate—
the steels, the stones, and
wooden mansions; for life to
tower above them.
I know you’ll await
my return And we’ll greet sweet
“sticky leaves of spring”*.
Until then… just then,
hold yourself So that we may
soar a trail afresh…
- C. Oulens
* - after F. Dostoyevsky, The Idiot
Sometimes, your #FavouritePlace may not be a favourite of those who love you… or probably yours either, except that you don’t know yet? A second piece (stanzas in haiku structure) for #PromptCombo and @dragonslayerma.bsky.social
Thanks
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