Zima

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Jordan, between Petra and Amman

The earth freezes
and my life ends,
blood slows in
rigid veins…

…heart stymied.

Electric greens and pinks,
ruby reds and fiery
oranges which painted
my world in happy hues

are doused by less
inspiring shades;
they give way to
deadened white

and pallid grey.
Ghosts of leaves
reveal phalanges-like
skeletons that

haunt my sleep,
snaking up the walls
and disturbing street
lights that reach achingly

towards me, wishing
they were the Sun so
they could wake me
from my slumber…

…which lasts for months.

And I only hope
the tundra thaws,
that I might wake
from the dead someday.

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