The Rest of Blizzards

Cold snow wood landscape

The Rest of Blizzards

I sense the
uninvited
cold needles
coming.

Winds howling
calling my name.

Steeling myself
against sharp ice
cutting slicing
ears, eyes, hair.

Needing to
rest my exhausted
brain’s tired
thoughts.

Digging, clawing
the frozen earth;

Hiding, residing
underground,

Waiting.

Will I suck all the air
from this atmosphere?

Rest.

Silence.

Sleep.

Awaken.

Listen for signs.

The ice
Drips
Drips
Drips
Until

Suddenly,
Out of this
world womb I fly!

Warm sun
of rebirth
blinds
me with
white light

Until blizzards return.

For now,
though,
I shine.

 

Poem by Lisa Molina

 

While not bingeing on her new favorite writer’s works, Lisa Molina can be found working with students with special needs, writing, singing, playing the piano, or marveling at nature with her family. She has lived in Austin, Texas since earning her BFA at the University of Texas. Her poetry can be found in several literary journals, including The Tiny Seed Literary Journal, Beyond Words Magazine, Trouvaille Review, Ancient Paths Literary Journal, The Ekphrastic Review, and Down in the Dirt