Days whittle away,
Inevitably growing darker with each waning moon.
Sunsets come so early. Sunrises so late. Blink, and you've missed it.
The light has gone, and this transition exhausts me.
Radiation that once seemed so deadly
As it burned and blistered my pale skin
Cries out to me, "you will miss me soon."
The hope of summer has left, carried away on the songs of the birds that fly south for the winter.
In the months of silence and darkness that follow, it is easy to lose yourself to the unrelenting thoughts of giving into the despair.
Oh, but there is hope. Over the bay, on a distant horizon it flashes. Brilliant green, blue, and purple as rich as the fireweed in the peak of summer.
Numb to the pain in your frostbitten fingers, you watch in awe. Your half-frozen soul begins to melt as they dance, lighting up the northerly sky. And you remember why you stay.
Art & Words © Lena Folkert, 2023.
About the Creator
Alaskan Grown Freelance Writer 🤍 Lover of Prose
Former Deckhand & Barista 🤍 Always a Pleaser & Eggshell-Walker
Lifelong Animal Lover & Whisperer 🤍 Ever the Student & Seeker
Traveler 🤍 Dreamer 🤍 Wanderer
Happily Lost 🤍 Luckily in Love
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