Still sleepwalking through her life,
I wrap her up
and we go through the snow that fell all night
and all through this Christmas morning:
her trainers barely denting the whitened lawn, her
two strides for every stride of mine.
Leaving her home
to the warmth of the house
I step back out, and see where my footprints turn
and walk through hers,
the other way—following the trail
of rabbit and deer into the unreachable silences of snow.
I can bring nothing of this back intact.
My face is smoke, my body water,
my tracks are made of snow.
The next morning is a dripping thaw, and winter
is gone from the grass—except for a line
of white marks going nowhere:
the stamped ellipses of impacted snow;
everything gone, leaving just this, this ghost-tread,
these wafer-thin footsteps of glass.
I step back out, and see where my footprints turn and walk through hers, the other way—following the trail- - -Beautiful poetic lines, thanks for sharing
Christmas and snow we never had that for years..i wish it will fall this year
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Quite an enigmatic poem, not too sure what to make of it which, I guess, is the whole point.