Shadows

A shadow on the heart.
Stormclouds gather on a winter's day.
Freezing rain pours down.
Pray for sun to pierce the veil,
But that day is long in coming.
A chill wind.
The spine tenses.
Hair raises, senses on alert.
It is coming.
Cracking like a glacier, pushing waves of despair.
To catch a snowflake on the tongue tastes bitter.
To trudge through the piled snow saps strength.
When will the spring come?
When will green leaves return to bare branches,
Smooth grass cover the hard, dark soil,
And flowers paint their tapestry?
All the world waits breathlessly,
All of one's world waits for what's next.
Waiting. Yearning. Longing.
All that is ever known.
When will a new fire melt this sheet of ice?
When will the walls of fantasy stop collapsing,
Endlessly building and tearing themselves down?
Control wrested away by the claws of fortune,
Determination lost in a sea of madness.
Ensnared, the creature cannot escape.
Not for a time.
Thorns of a rose, a flower,
So easily missed, so unintentionally placed,
And so sharp to the touch.
Bless the hand that takes away.
Turn back to naive innocence and find the door shut.
One day, the clouds will part, the light return,
The spirit will be reborn.
But until that day,
When suffering turns to satisfaction,
A shadow on the heart remains.