A Winter Solstice Poem
Poem © 2021 by Joyce Mason
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We dread Winter Solstice. It cuts Day to the chase. It delivers us long-suffering nights. It steals Warmth and leaves behind Darkness, bleak feelings that remind us intuitively of Death. Winter comfort demands feats of acrobatic energy: piling clothes, blankets and firewood, clapping or blowing on our hands, jumping up and down just to keep our blood running. Winter is one of the closest things to dying we will experience until we do. (We say frozen stiff for a reason.) The Lucky will know many winters. To find the beauty in struggling with the elements And any force bigger than ourselves, we first have to admit; Comfort is overrated. Comfort is an oasis, a place we must visit as long and often as possible to be healthy and happy. But to live there—to move in permanently— is more than decadent. It is decay. Winter’s perishable beauty reminds us: constant renewal is Beauty’s core. You cannot have rebirth without death or warmth without cold. Contrast gives these things meaning. Everything beautiful thing is transient. Each unique snowflake melts before we can barely take in its geometric perfection. Together flakes form blankets, soft white coating on landscapes that hold your breath. Winter takes simple substances like water, freezes it, and turns it into diamonds. The same winter cold that drives us inside and inward, defines uncomfortable beauty. From this cold we seek the warmth of Love. When our breath is frosted air we are close to the cutting edge of Life where beauty lives, we want to tell each other how we feel to say “I love you” one last time, or perhaps even for the first, before it’s too late. |
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