by Michele Darnell-Roberts

I hear the call of the wild,
the northern lands of ice and snow
where I’ll stay in a wooden chalet
by a frozen lake.

Where my breath will freeze
in the cold, cold air
and my well-wrapped body feel
small in the white-vault landscape.

Where the deafening silence
will urge me to survive
only in the moment;
too numb to dwell in the past.

Where the story of my life
stretches behind me like footsteps
soon to be covered by a white
blanket, and laid to rest.

Where bright light and space
freeze the vision of my future
as I hear only the slow crunch of snow
beneath my feet as I walk.

Where dawn and dusk merge
and the Northern Lights glow on the
horizon, sparking rainbow fire,
igniting the quiet embers of my heart.

Where I can emerge as new,
emptying my self out
and shedding my too-tight skin
which binds me to my Self.

As I plan my journey,
all this I anticipate,
all this I ask for,
all I can do is wait.

©Michele Darnell-Roberts