Clutching Matches


In this winter of frozen tongues
we hibernate in our pain
clutching matches while last words
layer frost on unrepentant.

Chilled by accusations we watch
hours drift across the clock trapping us
in a silent world with little hope of rescue.

Each of us holds the matchstick word
to melt the ice, but neither will usher in
spring’s thaw by uttering, “forgiven.”

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Fireblossom Friday ~ Winter

Comments

Fireblossom said…
As Elton sang, sorry seems to be the hardest word. Great poem, Susie. Is there a second book in the works yet?
January 16, 2015 at 5:56 PM
Margaret said…
Oh - so well put! Pride is as old as time…
January 16, 2015 at 9:12 PM
Jim said…
Nice poem, Susie. It hurts a little bit now and then.
If there was an "I'm sorry" then I might forgive. Won't happen.
..
January 16, 2015 at 11:15 PM
Unknown said…
This poem is quite dark in emotion. I think it is important to seek forgiveness just as much as it is to give it. It is part of the healing factor in life.
January 17, 2015 at 12:12 AM
SuyashJ said…
forgiving can be heard, but sometimes its the only way to get closure
January 17, 2015 at 12:53 AM
brudberg said…
To be frozen without a hope of thaw into the heart.. The image of the matchsticks brings to mind the little matchstickgirl by HC Andersen - not a lot of warmth to find there... Great poem.
January 17, 2015 at 1:05 AM
Anonymous said…
Very nice. Forgiveness can be tough. I think in the end I'm just too lazy to hang onto hurt. Takes to much energy.
January 17, 2015 at 5:56 AM
Susan said…
That is stubborness indeed, hurt upon hutrt knowing how but not willing to melt it. Oh. I picture uncovered bodies and lots of regret in the spring. Brilliant! (seond read!)
January 17, 2015 at 6:05 AM
Other Mary said…
"we hibernate in our pain"

That is about the best phrase ever. You got my undivided attention with that, and kept it right through to "Forgiven".
January 17, 2015 at 9:36 AM
Gail said…
So sad. A tribute to stubbornness. No one willing to forgive. Well done.
January 17, 2015 at 9:54 AM
hedgewitch said…
The opening line is exquisite, and also very personal and intense. The brevity here works to the poem's advantage, as if even talking about the subject hurts. Winter is a perfect metaphor here, Susie.
January 17, 2015 at 10:51 AM
Sherry Blue Sky said…
"We hibernate in our pain"......such an apt description, as is each person holding the match that might begin the thaw, neither one ready. Excellent write, Susie.
January 17, 2015 at 12:20 PM
Outlawyer said…
The winter of frozen tongues is such an interesting line--I think of children here--sticking them to sleds and flagpoles--as well, of course, as adults, refusing to lighten them--intense poignant poem, Susie. Take care, K. (http://manicddaily.wordpress.com)
January 17, 2015 at 1:06 PM
Hannah said…
Yes, and again...you rock the closing...bringing a whoosh of meaning. Well done, Susie!
January 18, 2015 at 7:39 PM
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