Kaysie Crook

“Song of Upbringing"

I

infancy

the snow that fell on me

was like floss silk



childhood

the snow that fell on me

was like sleet



seventeen to nineteen

the snow that fell on me

dropped like hail



twenty to twenty-two

the snow that fell on me

seemed like balls of ice



twenty-three

the snow that fell on me

looked like a blizzard



twenty-four

the snow that fell on me

became so mournful



II

the snow that falls on me

falls like petals

when the burning firewood makes a noise

and the frozen sky darkens



the snow that fell on me

so delicate and lovely

fell reaching out a hand



the snow that fell on me

was like tears

that sink into a burning forehead



to the snow that fell on me

I offered heartfelt thanks and prayed to God

that I would live a long life



the snow that fell on me

was so chaste”
― Chuya Nakahara

“Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steadily falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.”
― Dylan Thomas, A Child's Christmas in Wales

“People like to say that time heals all wounds, but I don't believe it. I remember once Grandpa took me firewood cutting, and as we looked at the rings of the tree together, he pointed out the years where there was drought and the years where there was fire. So while time allowed for new growth that hid the scars of the past, those scars were still there, inside the tree, and part of the tree. I think about how I am like that tree.”
― Kaya McLaren, Church of the Dog

“All her life she had believed in something more, in the mystery that shape-shifted at the edge of her senses. It was the flutter of moth wings on glass and the promise of river nymphs in the dappled creek beds. It was the smell of oak trees on the summer evening she fell in love, and the way dawn threw itself across the cow pond and turned the water to light.”
― Eowyn Ivey, The Snow Child