Pale clouds punctuate your breath
Delicate frost, pearls on eyelashes
This might be the end of the world
Nothing will visit you, not even noise. Fear is a primordial beast.
Only the delicate music of your pulse: Ba-thump / Ba-thump / Ba-thump
The first part is always hardest
Unpeel the leather skin and bury your hand in the maw of winter
Don’t mind the teeth; think of the task at hand
And feel the dry seeds of life between your finger and thumb.
Crumple to the music of your unspooled chest: Ba-thump / Ba-thump / Ba-thump
The skin is numb; an overcoat of plastic
A thin border between mind and sleep
Feel it melt, a thousand needles of awareness
At the first amber lick of light
Finally, the beat picks up: Ba-thump / Ba-thump / Ba-thump!
The song sung into your ancestors’ bones
Is as sure as the night and the claws of cold
The ancient accord between flesh and warmth
Has been paid with the first bead of sweat on your throat;
And the joyous thrill of life: Ba-thump! Ba-thump! Ba-thump!
Written by Sigrid Östenberg.
Cover photo by Merle Emrich.