y soul cried: “helpless"

As the exhale drew in my surroundings.

My mind broke tirelessly

As the outside forces began to overwhelm.

 

It was a season of unlearning— 

Parallel with one of becoming,

An ethereal essence

Searched for and misunderstood.

 

Phrase by phrase

These unspoken voices

Shouted whispers of longing

While guiding missteps.

 

It was an instinct of control

Lost on a broken road.

The winding reinforced the numbing

In the winter of my soul.

 

istaken for desperation,

The truth cried for relief.

As my journey became frozen

I realized a break on the scene— 

 

It was a window to my winter church— 

A needed place of solace,

Creating a meditative respite

Inside walls of compassion.

 

There were suffocating sounds,

So I retreat where nature consumes me.

It causes a pause in wonder

With clouded breath surrender.

 

As I stumble toward the tree line

I look to the sky and cry,

“Take me to my winter church."

 

ecognizing a fire in me— 

A wild heart emerges untamed

From a tireless belief and unseen pain.

 

To accept your own betrayal of self,

To follow aimlessly with downward gaze,

To forget where wisdom once lived well.

 

The absence of wisdom

Creates a shift in your being.

You follow on a whim

Versus steady means to a faithful end.

 

It’s the emerging question marks—

No cardinal sins or rules to bend.

Back when I knew who I was

I would have answers to give.

 

o embark on the death of a soul,

The death of what was known— 

It's the hero and the villain

Fighting to be the victor.

 

To take to heart another's pain

Of a constant drive toward bitterness— 

It's the lover and the hater— 

A constant state of empty-handed.

 

Freedom at a cost,

And freedom at a loss— 

You've chosen what you love

And become something you hate.

 

And you look to the past

As you look to the future—

Anywhere but here 

Must find a place of refuge.

 

You search your hopes,

You search your regrets.

“What if" is a dangerous game— 

A riddle for the ages.

 

So I trudge along the earth beneath me

And seek a space of personal belonging.

This cold front of mystery and disillusion

Leads me to my winter church.

 

t's a world of misperception— 

Misplaced credit and apprehension.

It's a feeling misconstrued

As another star falls from the sky unglued.

 

As a moment of honesty speaks— 

Maybe the goodness in you

Can break free again

In this season of becoming.

 

All these breaths I've held

Have turned into tears— 

Of pain and of beauty.

 

To be alone no matter where you go, 

To seek rescue enduring empathy,

To persevere beyond the paradoxical.

 

These matters of conviction,

And these prayers of reflection—

May I return to strength and clarity

As I stand within my winter church.