Pagan thinking around winter tends to focus on sleeping so as to rebirth in the the spring. However, not all seeds that lie in the earth will live to germinate. For many people, seasonal affective disorder makes the winter a hard time. The rising cost of living will make this winter cold and brutal for many. I think it’s helpful to acknowledge and honour the darker side of the year with all that it can bring.
Winter Frost fingers needle skin Ice forming in weary bones Let me lie down now. Bury me under snow and let us See if truly I am a seed To wake in the spring With the promise of new life. March, perhaps, or April. A bulb, fat with potential, Resilient against the cold, Firm holding, thaw me And I will blossom. Perhaps. If only I could slumber As bears do, waiting out The dark days. Enclose me snug In some snow cave Forgetful months. Perhaps it is only winter And not an Ice Age The chill in my heart Temporary, soon eased Not the slow cracking advance Of another glacier reaching To engulf me, not the silence Not the life that is death. Only winter in these bones Surely, only winter coming. Numbing at the edges. Fingers and feet Cold beyond reckoning. Waiting for the chill To extend along limbs Stealing breath Tiny snowflakes In my eyelashes Layering up softly Inside my lungs. Winter always kills Lie me down gently On the iron hard ground Let the ice take me I am too tired to fight. Perhaps in spring With tears or meltwater It will matter Whether I was a seed To grow fresh shoots Germinating in the cold Or whether I could not Find the means to thrive. It is only winter. Surly not an ice age Surely not forever. Let the freeze take me And try to believe Spring will offer A beginning.