In the Deep Silence of Winter

It felt like spring, for a time eyes invested in the budding promise (of life). Still, spring should not be – so quiet

in the absence of rain the silence echoed nothing but the fading promise of hope turned to kindling

and a fire of despair followed the drought Leaving no harvest but an autumn of ash.

And now, in the deep silence of winter, a single question hangs on my frozen lips - awaiting the spring thaw

What can rise from ash?

This poem was written after a season of forest fires in BC and after another deep personal loss where our dreams seemed to burn with the trees. Forests are reborn after a fire. We too wondered if we would experience renewal as autumn gave way to winter.

In my poetry, through the words there compelled out of me from my encounters with life, I found that seeds of possibility were frequently buried inside the pain.