Afterlife, Alone, Death, Death Poems, Eternity, Heaven, Hope, Ice, Infinite, Life, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Memory, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sacred, Snow, Soul, Souls, Spirit, Spirits, The Universe, Winter, Winter poem
A white blanket was pulled over
Our homes, the earth, our heads,
As effortless as sliding on ice,
As uncontrollable as dying.
And, it was hard to see beginnings
Of fields, or endings of hilltops;
In that way, it was a blur of (also white) fog.
Who’s to say what lay behind it?
The infinite forever of lost souls–?
Just there, and there, look where
My finger is pointing, beyond the trees.
I see myself only as far as the fence-line.
All else sparkles back, a vision
Of what is here, and what has been here,
Always within the margin
Of what we can so easily see.