Thursday, 18 January 2018

Cold (January 7, 2018)

Fragile life
At slightest touch.

Frigid wind blows
Across one's soulscape.

Body heat bleeds
Like steam
From boiling kettle.

Frozen corpses
Pale imitation of life.

Like woodlot’s
Cords of firewood.

Blithely consumed
By ignorant society.

Waiting next snowfall
To ease
Any collective guilt.

Life spent
So cheaply.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: For much of the past 5 weeks, most of Canada and the United States have been under the grip of an extreme cold air mass. In Toronto, this has resulted in new record lows temperature, for daily highs and overnight lows. As many water mains burst, under the onslaught of these frigid Arctic temperatures.

On a more personal note, this is the first poem that I have written, since November 2017, almost two months ago. As I have past the midway point of the second year for my current bout of depression that started June 2016.

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