To feel winter,
Cold, isolated, alone.
To feel nothing,
the white snow numbing every color around you,
till all there is, is white and gray.
Nothing.
No warmth, no light.
Nothing.
That is what you feel,
A blizzard raging on inside you,
the Cold easily numbing all inside and around you.
But it came from you,
because of you,
For you.
To soften the sharp wound,
to a dull ache,
a pounding throb,
an echoing plea.
And that is all that is left of you.
A red call muted by the white snow,
a bright hope, shattered by the gray landscape
of your mind.
And there is nothing.
No red, no blue, no yellow,
only white.
Nothing.
Just the white landscape, shaped by the grey of the world.
So you dig, dig, dig
deep through the snow,
and you keep going.
If you dig deep enough,
you know you will find that red
that you so desperately depend on.
And as you dig, dig, dig,
the red you find, is not the red you know.
It is not the red of freedom and hope and life.
It is the red of destruction and distraction and death.
This is an unfamiliar red, but as it seeps through the snow,
at least,
you think,
at least,
at least,
it is a color.
Not the dull ache of the white,
or the pounding throb of the grey.
It is red,
sharp and entrancing.
it is a color,
and that is the relief that floods you
and you know.
If you can dig deep enough.
You are still Alive.
But next time the snow comes,
And next time the white covers,
You know.
You’ll have to dig deeper this time,
deeper,
until you can find that sharp, enchanting red.
The one color that can promise that the snow is not you.
that the numbing cold, is not who you are.
As you dig deeper,
mining for this red,
you miss the sky as it sets.
So focused on the ground, and the color buried deep,
you don’t see the sun as it nears the snow and turns brilliant red.
You miss the sky as it lights up in a blaze of colors,
each color a promise of a new day.
Some of them painful, and some of them beautiful.
some of them battle, and some of them rest.
some of them healing, and some of them hurting.
But all of them are you,
and this red that you dig so deep for,
is a poor mockery of the beauty that the sky can offer.
But to embrace the sunset,
is to see all the colors.
To see the bright yellow of a smile,
And the dark blue of a loss,
To see the red of true life
and the purple of true suffering.
To embrace the sunset,
Is to take all.
The blue and the yellow and the purple and the red.
It is impossible to separate these
as the sun goes down,
to separate the pain from the love,
the loss from the life.
No one said it would be easy,
to watch the sun set.
but it would be more filling,
than dig, dig, digging,
for a red that is not real.