skating

He awoke to an iron sky
Steel storm clouds hung heavily on the horizon
The wind whistled at his door
He dressed--futile protection from the cold
outside and within
Lifting the blades from the shelf
He surveyed the vast, frozen wasteland
that lay before him
The grey snow crunched and crackled under
the weight of his step.
Walking against the wind, water welled up in his eyes and
his nose began to run
as his body released the briefest shiver.
He reached that familiar point.
Icy blue veins could be seen just below the surface.
Knelling on the edge, he caught his blurred reflection.
Previous images swept through his mind--
Dreams of gliding, gracefully sliding
from one side to the other.
Delicately slicing through the smooth, thin surface.
Severing connections, gloriously sailing
Instead
Stumbling, falling, failing
Barely conscious, awkwardly aching
lying on his back
under the iron sky

He grips the blade in his frozen hand
trying to mount his courage
Through tear filled eyes, he catches his blurred reflection
in the bathroom mirror.
The razor drops to the smooth white tile
as the wind howls against the motionless clouds.


copyright t. ewing