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Winter’s brutal kiss tried to freeze me on my journey. Not the holiday-movie winter" the real one. February cold that froze men to park benches, that took brothers out with slips on ice, brain bleeds blooming fast and fatal. No holly jolly Christmas for them.
I didn’t come out of it by being brave. I came out of it by continuing to fight in spite of the fear. By looking at the carnage and chaos and calling it mine, by owning it, by accepting my part in the s**t instead of hiding in a bottle for another day, another century. I’m no choir boy, not even in the same cathedral, but I told the truth when lying would’ve been warmer" like a space heater in a blizzard shack. I named the demons instead of feeding them vodka. I watched them shrink once the light hit them, scatter like pigs from a fire.
The cold still shows up. Still tries to cling to my secondhand coat. It always will. But somewhere" under snow and frost, under bleak December nights, under all that noise" there’s a heat that lives in me. It’s part of me. A gift. Grace, unleashed. Something stubborn. A summer that learned how to survive inside a man who refused to be a punk.
Winter can symbolize many things. Here, I think it stands for a bleak period in the past, A time that saw people close taken down. The speaker acknowledges he might have shared a similar fate but for his will to live. He makes no excuses, owns his mistakes and wisely gives himself credit for hanging in there. He admits "the cold" still appears occasionally, but believes he can handle it now. I believe he can, too.
Hi Thomas, Wow! I never thought about that! The holiday movie winter compared to the real one! Omgosh, you talking about the winter freezing men to park benches actually gave me chills and "No holly jolly Christmas" for the ones who slip on the ice and end up with brain bleeds'...
You see way past the decorations and I love that!
Thanks for sharing!
That old saying that were there's life there's hope, where, where there's smoke there's fire there remains the remnants of summer fire to carry one through the depts of winter not only of the year but of life nicely done Thomas
Kicking the bottle is a bold, powerful, life-affirming step. The lives I have seen broken by alcohol since living in Temp Accomms - you can live clean with Tobacco, it doesn't fetter your mind. Exceptional ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️
Thomas W. Case was born in Oxnard. He has published 3 volumes of poetry. The Bullfrog Dreams of Flying, Artichokes, Avocados, and Van Gogh, and Seedy Town Blues. He has won several poetry contests. Hi.. more..