Friday, January 24, 2014

Winter Song Reflections

Tina: Listen to this while reading :)  Sara Bareilles, Ingrid Michaelson - Winter Song

the gnome stares at winter thru plastic

This winter is unforgettable.
The winter we built things.
The winter we grew and cried and tore.
The winter we ripped ourselves apart so we could learn to patch and sew.
The winter we survived and huddled and felt our hearts beat faster and faster.
The winter our bones felt pain from the cold and chill.
The winter we thought we'd die, but instead we thrived. In our way.
The winter where we ate apples and lentils--food of the ancient gods.
The winter where we dreamed while walking--and slept while sleeping.
The winter where we knew nothing, yet learned everything.

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I dont know whether Detroit is home or hell. I don't know why I chose this, yet I choose to cry and to stay. January has been cold in all sense of the word. Is anything living here? If I repeat it enough will something click? If I spin in so many circles will I eventually stand straight? The curse lives in a white fountain of stone upon a small hill with white steps and white lions and baby angels. It's decieving, but its lived there for years. I know it because my dog can smell it when we walk by. She holds her breath for the stench is foul, not fair. The game does not follow rules understood by a leaflet on the back of your hand. There is no guide here. Frozen.

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What is winter without a little sadness or introspection or a single song repeated until it reaches its own tone deaf? My voice is withered and corse, like the bark stretched to protect the trees from the pain (and the cold). My skin stretched over my soul to keep the tears in. January never felt so long. What will happen in February? Will I ever thaw? How has the North Wind not destroyed all? He has drived things deeper and deeper. If we could collect love in little buckets would there be any left to harvest? Would more or less grow when everything else has died? 'I am not afraid'-she repeated. Hands trembling, veins slowing their supply. Will we ever tire? Stop with the motion and drudging and dragging. Sirens - life continues whether we can stand it or not.
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