Thirteenth of a January

Eighteenth of the coming June

I am here

If I could be there too

To heal is a promise broken

To hurt is the coldest storm

I heal strong

Hurt like the falling snow

The storm is ended
But I am still

Tangled in branches under the ice

I hear her calling

Or is that the wind?

What history thins my conscience?

What present would dare endure

She’s a girl

Snowflakes too young to know

There is not one new life within me

Well tell me what the other women do

This year the solstice passes

And still I’m trying to see this through

For the ones who came before me

And told me to pretend

That I could live without her

As I have lost her again and again and again

The storm is ended
But I am still

Tangled in branches under the ice

I hear her calling

I hear her calling

To me she’s calling

Or is that the wind?