Id Est Quod Id Est

My voice was thin, the snow erased,

The wind devoured, no trace replaced.

Like handkerchiefs in streets I fell,

No hand reached out, no soul embraced.

Is silence where all endings go,

Or is this grave the heart’s own space?

My eyes still search a path ahead,

As darkness blooms, my hope lies dead.

I begged the skies for just one sign,

But even stars turned cold instead.

My hands, now cracked, like prayers lost,

Is night asleep, or God misled?

Each memory lies under white,

Each step I take is toward the night.

A bloom of cold, a breath of ash,

Spring rots within without a fight.

I sought a shoulder, found a wall,

And screamed my name with all my might.

No knock, no voice, no holy spark,

Just snow that wraps me, soft and stark.

You passed through me just like a ghost,

A dreamless dream, forever dark.

Even waiting froze inside,

Time gave up too, a deadwood bark.

O eyes that dared not meet the sky,

There’s not a star, not one reply.

The light is gone, the air is blind,

I dug my grave and didn’t cry.

I didn’t need your bread or bed,

Just once your voice, but now goodbye.

This final line, a fading thread,

Like children’s cries the dusk has fed.

Perhaps a hand will reach in dreams,

But dreams lie worse than truth unsaid.

And so a woman disappears,

Inside her hopes, inside the dead