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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Falling in the February Snow

This winter is beautiful and savage.
I love the snow.
How gentle it lies on the ground.
How quiet it makes the walls of the world.
Being hard of hearing it helps me hear.
I hear earth sleeping under the snow.
I hear chimes in the trees.
But my knees ache lifting me.
The freezing and melting
have put a glassy porcelain
on its surface and my knees collapsed
putting me in a crouch of prayer
on the ice.

I felt bewildered, like a child
without its legs.
Why was I made unable to fly?
Things die because of the snow.
Its cold enters the heart
and stabs it with a sword.
It has the sad eyes of death.
When I laid on the ice I cried,
saying a prayer.

I will be patient facing my loss,
my freedom.
The joy of ever walking with
the sure forte of youth.
I caught my breath and dreamed for a moment.
Bear me for awhile, I said.
I will never be used to growing old.
I gathered my pieces together
and stood.
How beautiful everything is! I said.
How gentle and helpless our affection
when things kill us.

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