There is snow in my lungs
and though I try to warm my breath
by inhaling the sunbeams of the day
I seem to only speak an icy bitterness.
I used to dream
of singing, of adding to the world notes of amber gold,
but after seasons of unchanging season,
winter has set itself within my bones.
My vocal cords are frozen,
dead shores along white coasts,
waves encased like barreling wails,
burning to break forth.
They rage in me like blizzards,
covering wood and stone in crystal,
coated tears shed by shaded people crumbled
in unlit hearths,
and whose pains crackle in my ears.
To hear! Oh, to hear, loneliness so pure
that on its edge I see my image clear,
and to know! Oh, to know, that even those I hate
carry the same faceless frigid fears.
Is this humanity’s condition?
Doomed to days and deaths,
to wander in the storm,
white-eyed and blind—
Am I,
with small body and fragile mind,
to inhale every sour flake that curdles sky?
If so, I am a miserable host
because my words seem not to melt
or shatter ice,
and there is an iceberg enormous
lodged deep within mankind.
But the sea is wide,
and if I can continue—
continue sailing by star instead of sight,
then along the strips of sun I’ll cast my faith
and set to life
an ember in my chest—
in whose smallness rests the end
of permafrost.
And should it grow—
grow to rage like bead of flaming blood in cold,
then with frostbit hands I’ll grasp
my voice,
thaw the chords,
draw its breath—
and with full stretch
of lungs and heart
I’ll break apart the walls
with a song of avalanche.
The recognition that we all are all influenced by and contribute to “the iceberg enormous lodged deep within mankind” makes the person feel impotent, “a miserable host” unable to melt this atavistic inhuman mass that seems to form the bedrock of our very nature. But if we can continue “sailing by star instead of sight”, drawing our seeing and informing our vision from a higher realm of nature (the heart is the microcosmic sun within- the ember in the chest) we can speak the true word or song that melts the snow, fulfilling our roles as good hosts of the creation.
Paulito, thank you for the thoughtful reply. There’s a lot to reflect upon in what you shared. I really appreciated your remark about the communing with the “higher realm of nature,” the implication being that there’s more to what informs and shapes our lives (and the Cosmos as a whole) than the small diorama of the world we have collectively constructed and currently use to draw interpretations about the particulars of our daily experiences. An element of this poem speaks to this point. The line you quoted that asks for us to follow the guidance of the stars as opposed to our eyes is indeed a metaphor for this idea.
Additionally, I loved the follow-up statement you made: “the heart is the microcosmic sun within- the ember in the chest.”
In many of my poems I use Cosmic events and objects as symbols for the personal matters that unfold within the individual human life. Conversely, I use the happenings of the individual human life as symbols for Cosmic ideas. Your beautiful statement feels resonates with me.
I agree that becoming more in-tune with the things that makes us feel joyfully human–not a confused and intoxicated joy–leads to a healthier and richer life, which, when enough people follow suit, results in a better world.
Thank you for reading and for your thoughts.
What I interpret is that one is dominant to their domain. It’s too easy to have lofty ambitions of shattering external mountains and icebergs, meanwhile we have that power to do so within ourselves. An internal avalanche is waiting to happen. Very inspiring piece, thank you.
The only good one can do for the world can only be done when the good is done within and for oneself. When one sets themselves right, then every one of their acts upon their surroundings becomes extensions of that good, like branches of a lush and verdantly green tree that eventually intertwines with foreign and rich branches to generate a forest. The forest of the good.
I love your thoughts. Thank you for sharing.