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A winter without snow
Is a death without a funeral.
The time to stop and reflect
As the white flakes cover our souls
In peaceful silence
Is robbed.
Our Painful hearts cannot be rushed
To mend from brutal blows.
But the snow does not come as it should.
The flakes so often just melt
To the spearing rain,
Who does not leave time for forgiveness.
The rain is just cold
And pushes for work
And rush
And motion.
Motion that our bodies and minds
Cannot always meet.
Motion we cannnot bear to summon energy for.
Motion which can not be accepted.
The snow will not come until it is ready though.
Until God, the Universe, and Nature approve.
No matter how long we ache.
How we beg.
How we pray.
Our souls could be the Devil's,
Then snow might fall,
But Hell's fire would burn for us,
Smoldering on the Other Side.
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Poetry: Pain in life
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