My Name Is Scribble

WINTER SOLSTICE 12-21-2024

I’ve always wanted to lock Solstice down, put it in the pocket of my Ice-Blue vest and not let it escape. I could be Pandora reincarnated. I would stop the globe spinning and a miracle would happen. Our planet would be on the cusp of spring in perpetuity. We mark this day as the first day of winter, I look at the sky and know Mother Earth is on track to spring.

The shortest day of the year is when a miracle can happen. I’m not indifferent to the quiet. There are snowshoes on my feet,we are out the back door and our backdrop is The Gore Range of mountains in Summit County Colorado

I’m lonely and my long shadow trails me. I’m a woman Peter Pan, looking to save myself, attaching a shadow to the moment. It is only my shadow that tells me that I’m alive. The sun is 93 million miles away and when I put myself between the sun and my snowshoes? I live! I’m lit up on earth. I matter.

I get lumps in my stomach knowing the truth. Life ends, children grow up, love can fail and governments fall. Pandora’s Box has already been revealed and it is up to me to contain the furies for myself. I want to have enough power to make a difference.

My snowshoes fall off the track and I am down. The politics of rotten snow envelops me. No wind, just blusters of ridiculous words from the new team that believes they have power. The wind has been blowing up here at 9,400 feet for days now. It skiffs the land we try to cross. Looks like small waves, but there is no stability beneath my feet.

My left ski pole goes into the trash layer of snow. It can’t support a person.This is the layer where avalanches are born. However, I am not climbing. I need to balance and I can’t. I do a face plant into my path, knees are buckled and left shoulder screams in pain. I’m stuck. Help? My partner doesn’t know my body has stopped. He still moves forward, indifferent to my situation.

But it’s Winter Solstice a miracle can happen. A huge Raven is above me, just like the ones at The Tower of London except this one doesn’t have clipped wings. It sails over my Partner . It calls out to him. He looks up stops and turns and the bird swoops up , down, around . A dance against the cobalt blue sky. A god clothed with Regal Blue Black feathers.

The plots and plunders continue on the news. Why don’t those mortals know they can’t save themselves . Power is finite. Same for our bodies. Winter Solstice is in the pocket of my Ice Blue Vest and ‘The Furies’ have been unleashed.

Thanks for reading

Scribble.