Poem by Parrish Young

Winter’s Return

Engulfed in warmth, I am
Prepared for winter’s wrath, whose
Cruelty is relentless,
Preying upon those who know not your fury.
Many are paralyzed by the air, gasping for breath as you stare down from above.
Immune to cold, you are
Frozen to the core.

As days drift, the pines sway,
Whose needles of green are not the only survivors.
I am here.
Full of life, I have escaped.
It is not luck that has befallen me, but sense.
The sense to deny the feeling of false affection,
Whose warmth you consume immediately,
In a feeble attempt to liquefy your guilt.

Tumescent, your heart is
teeming with those souls whose journey was cut short.
Let them be
Let them breathe
Let them experience warmth.