Against the Storm
My footsteps resound
From brick corners at each block I pass.
Their voices carry through deserted streets
And fall to silence in the gathering snow.
Their cries do not pierce
White gauze veiling the sky's wounded face;
Soon, my feet fall silent too.
The lacerations of snowflakes
Carve my face in stolid stone,
Mold my bones to stilling numbness
As the night finds its way behind my eyes.
The wind holds me fast in its desperate embrace
And I fall, white hands
Joining with the white streets below.
My voice is hollow as it reaches out,
But hers lifts the veil and pulls me back to myself.
Her hands find mine;
Frozen breath rekindles the fire inside me.
We walk on.
The sky weeps ice for loneliness tonight,
But our company melts its cold despair.
©2000 Elizabeth Hebert
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