Helen Trevillion

My Winter

Helen Trevillion


winter wakes from a dream cast in opaline
where summer lies like a ghost in our memories
and our world, darker now, wears a humble grace
my winter, so quietly alive

silhouettes of the trees dress the sky in lace
across a watery sun melting through the haze
and as I walk I feel the buzz of electric cold
on my skin, I drink it in, I drink it in

and now I am walking alone, down the same worn street
that strangers walk down, alone, without a word to me
the brief exchange of a smile as we pass each other by
a sweet exchange of sweet belonging

and in the faces of those who we know so well
gentle warmth brought to life in the numb pearl-grey
and we don't need to speak, only listen to the world
poetic world - there is nothing more than this

and in these moments we breathe this simplicity
discover fragments of love half-remembered, when
all we knew was the sound of her heart beating
and it said, "you are loved, you are safe, you are safe."

so here I am, and here we are, here to do our part
to figure out who we are, what we have to give
and with our words sew the sound of her heart beating
and let it sing, "you are loved, you are safe, you are loved."