I come to the realisation
I can’t remember those winters,
the winters of my childhood.
It was really good at all times,
and it was really bad.
Now it’s bad all the time.
I remember these winters
the ones that make the tears freeze as they fall,
the ones that make my hair fall out in little clumps
as I stand behind bars.
That’s the downside of a conflict
fitting and fleeing and fighting
I can’t remember the last time I danced.
Free like you.
Perhaps I had.
Perhaps you couldn’t.
“close your eyes and let it move through you”