The Northerner

The Northerner

or A Journey: a poem in four parts.


I. One of Many Mornings

The ground is still
and gentle frost embraces it,
the sky is painted rose
and greyish light blue.
My heart cracks like cold ice
on warm windows
and the light is dying.
Like a wolf among sheep
I travel to the city
of the shepherd,
soul heavy with thoughts
just breathing
and gasping
for the year's
last
air.
Before Yule.


II. December 

At dawn
the body aches
with life,
and the foul stench of it
follows me
like ghosts
haunt ancient ruins.
Christmas wreaths
decorate walls,
and farmers
sleep cozy
regardless of the world
on fire.
At times I wish
I could be as careless,
but then I breathe
and hold my burden
in my frostbitten hands
and walk
fiercely
through the night.


III. Railroadside

The fog hides our struggles
and the countryside rests,
our weary bones ache
while the powerful play proceeds.
Pieces of cloth
and dirty windows
separate us
from the cold
of Father Winter,
and I hear my lungs
opening
and closing,
crushed like a squishy mushroom
or filled like a robin's flaming heart.
Skeletons watch silently
at the railroadside
and I go,
southward I go,
no further from the cold,
no clearer than these plains.


IV. Sunset on Empire 

It's the heavy breathing
in the evening,
it's your elven smile,
it's drinking
from the banks
of life's river.

A quick glimpse of the sunset;
I'm northward again,
to winter
and evening
and life.