The Bones Of Winter
Author Kassi Wilson
The Bones Of Winter
—After T. S. Eliot
Ocean tides break against coastal cliffs; endless is their rising and falling. Time endures as mankind tarries over the earth. Is there an end to progress? What of toil? Mechanisms of greed are metal wheels churning as we sleep. The carcass of a young whale decays on the beach. A leisurely walk is all it takes to see the sequel of free will wash to the surface. The dirt is not our dumpster, yet bears the litter of plastic. The sun shines on heaps of shattered glass and still it gleams. Shining over asphalt. I’ve misjudged brown shopping bags midair for mourning doves. Deprived of beauty— my eyes play tricks on me. I’ve had my fill of seeing roadkill. I can’t recall the last time I saw a doe frolic in the woods. Gloomy gray engulfs the world. Cold drear refusing mercy. I walk among the bones of winter. Old graveyards rest haphazardly between strip malls. Developers lack all sense! Where are the grassy plains! The babbling brooks! I long to behold! My weary eyes deceive. And though my sight is tainted, I look for glory in the wasteland. Though my vision fades in and out, I look for glory along the road as rain cleanses grim. Though my wonder lags behind, I look for glory at the intersect where heaven collides— shining out among the wreckage.
Poems & Paraboles publishes work that illuminates, awakens, or opens a small window toward wonder. Some pieces are quiet. Some are bold. Some carry a moral thread, while others wander into the mysterious and ethereal.
Poets and storytellers are invited to submit their work. Selected pieces will be posted and featured throughout the year. See Submission Guidelines!
This is amazing and striking, Kassi, powerful with truth and layered with longing. The line “I’ve misjudged brown shopping bags midair for mourning doves” stopped me. So much ache and disillusion in that one moment. And yet, even amid the wreckage, you return to glory, “where heaven collides.” A powerful, timely piece.