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CELEBRATING CREATIVE EXPRESSION AT BAYLOR SINCE 1966

Periaktoi Writing Post

Volume 51
Issue 2

Single Visual Art Post

  • Poetry
The Blizzard
Andy Gooch
 
The Blizzard

 

January.

The ground too frozen for crops to grow.

The lifeless bodies of our livestock engulfed in snow.

Too, devilish figures amongst the tree line; the branches

And briars iced over into treacherous daggers.

Man and Beast alike hiding within their holes,

Waiting for a glimpse of warm gold amongst the cold,

Dead wasteland. Limbs frail, snapping yet unmovable.

The frost penetrates all it touches and seeps into the soul.

Howls of hunger from deep inside the forest become

Entwined with the shrieks and screams of the wind.

All is frozen, hope and hell alike. All that could be

Lay dead in a crystalline coffin.

Supplies nearly depleted, hopes and dreams defeated,

The hot corona incapable of piercing the icy shroud.

And there she lay

Blackened and stiff --pale eyes affixed

Skyward-- imprisoned within a wintry cell.

As the blizzard devours.