POEM: "Only Bones"
On making peace with winter's grief as we trudge toward spring.
It seems to be gaining popularity lately (at least in my respective circles) to embrace the seasonal nature of our world and lives. I am encouraged as I see more and more discussion of what it means to slow down and rest in the winter months before welcoming the busybodied joy of spring with open arms. I love this. And I truly believe in its goodness for us.
But of course, in addition to recognizing the slow, still nature of winter, there is another aspect we can’t ignore: winter brings death.
And with it, grief.
We may be slowing our minds and bodies, but they are not quite still—like the simmering pot of soup on the stove, we stir the deepest corners of our minds. Combine this increased introspection with a lack of sunlight, and we all know how easily the recipe can end with a downcast soul.
If you’ve been around Manifold Witness for a while, you’ll know that depression is a frequent character in my own story. It has been for a long time. And yet every winter I am somehow surprised when I find myself trudging through loneliness and hopelessness again. Sometimes it lasts months, sometimes days, sometimes only fleeting moments strung throughout the season. And this is coming from someone who gladly admits to loving winter (especially when it comes with snow).
I delight in it, but it also seems to leave me a little weary every year.
No matter what these last long days of winter look or feel like for you, I hope you resonate with the truth that winter not only demands us to slow, but to grieve. For many, the grief is personal. For all of us, there is at the very least the necessity to see the grief in the world around us.
Before we can clear away the leaves and brush, we must look at it.
Before we can revel in new life, we have to grapple with the crumbling of the old.
For your pondering during these damp early days of not-quite-spring, I share with you my poem, “Only Bones,” originally published in Issue 2.2 of LandLocked Magazine.
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The instant you mentioned the word "grief," I was irrevocably hooked ;D
My heart broke at the description of the rabbit "beyond / recognition except / tuft of white at one end / mangled ear."
I'm so glad you still named the creature, recognized it as a "rabbit," which says something profound about humans in similar wrecked states, which made me read the whole poem again. Gorgeous!!!
I LOVE this. Visceral and vivid and the line breaks are just brilliant