Words are too heavy to be worn
on this side of the world
even as the air
even as the air
grows cold
and our breath turns white.
and our breath turns white.
Across the river children skate,
awkwardly at first,
but after some practice
whirl and glide
like dancers on clouds.
awkwardly at first,
but after some practice
whirl and glide
like dancers on clouds.
While we prefer to walk,
often in the wrong direction.
But even when turned around,
we still must face
ourselves,
often in the wrong direction.
But even when turned around,
we still must face
ourselves,
or a facsimile found in any mirror.
The truth is there,
twinkling,
flashing back at us
across the depths of an indigo sky.
twinkling,
flashing back at us
across the depths of an indigo sky.
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