Between The Drifts

Between the drifts of blizzards
that come in the wintry fury over the heart
as those snowy sayings that chill the soul,
I built my shelter in my head
of the timbers from wisdom’s wood.

And though the day summons its frigid winds
from the many who come as snowmen of icy phrases
meant to cover with criticisms like frostbitten effects,
still I huddle in my isolation
not letting their frozen kiss
deny me the refuge for my peace.

Because in the solitude
can I hear that inner voice in reason,
the simple sounds of clarity
like a sun that light in the midst of January habitations
to grant the warm within
against those harsh and brutal seasons.

For even when the day only affords
the bite in chill from the air that is breathed,
it doesn’t have to force a retreat
into the hibernation from truth or time,
a surrender to challenges that test
by hiding from the weather.

Instead it is a place of discovery
where there is heat from enlightenment,
which is a fire that outlast the seasons
when life grows so intense in its storms.