Lost In The Ice
The ice sheets came down
little by little at first,
layer upon layer,
but relentless.
That was the last time and
there were no survivors
to tell the story.
The mysteries
and secrets
were buried,
lost in the ice.
No one stayed to describe the forests
standing still
clothed
in silver spangles,
dressed as if for Christmas,
shining with sparkling baubles,
or their last survivors in the whitened landscape,
wearing their silver ball gowns
ready for their final dance
before they too
joined the
buried
branches
and bones
the mysteries
and secrets
now covered over in new white sheets.
Buried.
Waiting
to reveal themselves,
to tell their stories
when the ice receded,
waiting,
waiting,
only
to be washed away
in the thaw.
little by little at first,
layer upon layer,
but relentless.
That was the last time and
there were no survivors
to tell the story.
The mysteries
and secrets
were buried,
lost in the ice.
No one stayed to describe the forests
standing still
clothed
in silver spangles,
dressed as if for Christmas,
shining with sparkling baubles,
or their last survivors in the whitened landscape,
wearing their silver ball gowns
ready for their final dance
before they too
joined the
buried
branches
and bones
the mysteries
and secrets
now covered over in new white sheets.
Buried.
Waiting
to reveal themselves,
to tell their stories
when the ice receded,
waiting,
waiting,
only
to be washed away
in the thaw.
First published in Spider Mirror, January 2018
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