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Hello winter my old friend.

I promise I won't run from you this year.

I promise to meet your silence like never before,

to finally sing your song with you after all this time,

to let all those stories that are ready to come to their end

finally fall from my form.

I promise, old friend, to shake and shiver and delight

in cold bones and candlelight and the blessing warmth

of skin on skin in a bedroom grave.

Forgive me for dishonouring you,

for not knowing how to meet you,

for turning from you because I did not know what you are,

for holding on so tightly to everything that made me comfortable

in this skin that you ask me to shed,

for protecting myself against you until we were whole oceans apart,

for thinking the life that was mine was everywhere

but right here in the discomfort of your embrace,

in your humbling ways.

Sing to me winter,

I'm grown enough to sing along now.

~ Matthew.


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