The Winter Is Cold, Is Cold
by Madeleine L’Engle
The winter is cold, is cold.
All’s spent in keeping warm.
Has joy been frozen, too?
I blow upon my hands
Stiff from the biting wind.
My heart beats slow, beats slow.
What has become of joy?
If joy’s gone from my heart
Then it is closed to You
Who made it, gave it life.
If I protect myself
I’m hiding, Lord, from you.
How we defend ourselves
In ancient suits of mail!
Protected from the sword,
Shrinking from the wound,
We look for happiness,
Small, safety-seeking, dulled,
Selfish, exclusive, in-turned.
Elusive, evasive, peace comes
Only when it’s not sought.
Help me forget the cold
That grips the grasping world.
Let me stretch out my hands
To purifying fire,
Clutching fingers uncurled.
Look! Here is the melting joy.
My heart beats once again.
1 comment:
So nice how the author compares body sensation to some sort of situation of a soul.
I loved the "Let me stretch out my hands to purifying fire" verse, then how the melting reference makes it sound even more captivating.
On a side note, the cold weather was pretty much ok, I mean, it was cold for me, I know it gets colder, after the concert in Merrillville, I am going to spend Xmas in Brazil. So I am not going to be here for the most severe period =] Hugs.
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