The Cruellest Month

The Cruelest Month


December depression, they called it
Seasonally reactive disorder
The waning sunlight of the winter months
Being calmly blamed for it all, her
Sorrowful sighs, sunken, red rimmed eyes
Waxy face a bone white color
That her veins grew so blue that they
Mapped uncharted territories
Blackberry bruises forming galaxies
Brittle, frost bitten creature-
and they said
Blame December

As if spring made her bloom
As if summer made her any sunnier
In the extremes of heat, when the very
Earth fumed, she sat still
As stone, carved of bone, as if
She flowered, drenched in monsoon
No, no, no, they said, it wasn’t Fall
The leaves blazing red in autumn were
Not at fault
She was born on a grave cold night, and
Her blood, chilled, still remembers
That’s why, they says,
Blame December

The blind fools

She was not glacial- but a snowflake
Wandering unbidden through drifts no
Mortal hand could make
Ice and fiery light, they might not see
Who cared?
She laughed quiet, they spoke too loud to
Fathom her silence
But it was there
The ground was not dead, it was
Merely waiting
Like all life suspended, biding her time,
Placating the north wind to soften
– and it would listen, often
To that child, snowy, soft, placating
Frozen, they called her, heartless,
And they talked mindlessly,
and did not see her, named December
– they still blamed December
That this was her time of rebirth



Day Four of NaPoWriMo! I went off a bit on a tangent for the prompt, oops. I suppose all Winter’s children are snowflakes that way… Or at least, this one is a flake. 😜


4 thoughts on “The Cruellest Month

  1. Micah Le Lann™ says:

    Very, very, very nice!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Madsies says:

    A flake that wouldn’t, shouldn’t melt. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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