Winter Ritual

“Winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail.”

– Proverb

“Looking up, she showed him quite a young face, but one whose bloom and promise were all swept away, as if the haggard winter should unnaturally kill the spring.”

-Charles Dickens

Winter Ritual

In the bowery

The patrol vans


Ever so slowly

At first light


Left then right

Scouring each


Never knowing

Where the next one

Will be found

Easily identified

The blue color

Of lips

The rigid form

The cold

Of each

Who escaped

Their pain

Freezing quietly

Into the night

Zipped in for eternity

Body bags

Not a fashion statement

Potter’s field

Not a destination

3000 miles away

I saw my father’s eyes





About Léa

A wanderer who has found home and herself in the South of France.
This entry was posted in Loss and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Winter Ritual

  1. You’ve penned this so beautifully Lea, even from the loss of your loved one whose memory haunts you. May you find peace and comfort in writing.

  2. This poem makes me curious about you and the things that you and your loved ones have been through. Thank you for your honesty, its intruiging.

  3. This is very raw and beautifully written


  4. Blü says:

    This. is. a subtle balm on an old wound. wow… thank you.

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