Obituaries

Head down

trudging steadily

face into the storm

it’s cold

and sad

big puffs of snow drift slowly past

the wind picks up

a blizzard gusts

flakes becoming

tiny sharp knives

slicing my soul

bloody tears on my cheeks

faces on those white crystals 

sliding by fleeting and slow

I am breathtakingly bemused 

how quickly this is all happening

but

I know 

someday

I will let go too

eagerly joining the wild gale

drifting and flying and 

gone