Northwind Howling — A Poem

I adore frigid winters, the gusts pure and keen
upon shy skin. Summer and I
became estranged long ago.
Beaches felt too warm
the moment I realized humanity loves them.
I feel that moment’s grain, wrong
and inevitable like a dagger-blade
upon my thigh, digging
through strands for some harsher truth.
If a heart thrives on connections pumping
warmth in, love out
I wonder how my heat survives–or perhaps
I always burned too fiercely for myself,
and when I left my friends behind,
and forswore religion–can I believe in gods when I don’t believe in humans?–
perhaps now the fires I shielded behind quaking palms
must enter my veins, and consume me
or make me something stronger than futility.

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