Waiting to Wake

What do I know

of the blinding white snow

and the way that it peppers the ground?

How can I hear

from the foraging deer

as they threaten without any sound?

What do I see

in each leaf barren tree

that reminds me of all I have lost?

How can I smell

the small creatures that dwell

beneath dirt overladen with frost?

There is some part of me

in each thing that I see

on this wintry, frozen landscape.

There are other parts hidden;

until now, forbidden,

just waiting,

just waiting,

to wake.