ecologyalike

[ecologyalike]

The path we take

Seeking the shapes of the familiar covered in contours under the snow.

Every day it is the same but different.

When fire cleared the ground for the new growth,

when wind felled the trunks crossing the way,

when light was not enough to take the next step.

It was there.

You run to catch a fleeting moment, not afraid of defeat, again and again expecting the new beginning to start.

You still seek the familiar.

[ecologyalike]

When time slows

Stars on the ground we walk.

Your paws make marks on the powder snow.

The sky dotted with sparkles

curves

to lid us in

the universe.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

This morning

This morning I see blue patches on the white blanket.

Branches sugar covered swaying in the wind.

I look out from the window,

and momentarily

life is light.

When I wake up again,

the blue patches are gone,

dissolved in the white background,

the grey light on the blanket is not gay,

still, covered with heavy eyelids,

a fragment of life carries on.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Reunion

With deep shadows under their eyes,

they speak a foreign language.

He sleeps under his black hoodie.

She scrolls through her latest feed.

On the train back home,

in the dark blue of the passing morning,

we are too tired to embrace the coming reunion.

I watch out to The Land of Winter,

lights are lit in houses, sometimes,

many dark and muted, why

perhaps they are still asleep, I smile

or they are at work and school, already, I nod

or is there emptiness that fills the bare walls of what once was home?

A shell without a pearl.

Surrounded by the white snow, waiting for the reunion.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Wind

Rows of cut hay pierced through the surface of the shallow snow,

the marks of the wheels from the late harvest,

crisscrossing on the rolling fields.

He is present in the landscape,

he inhales, he exhales,

I listen to his sighs.

It’s the shortest day of the year.

And when I turn,

he disappears.

Facing the breeze, cold on my cheeks,

I hear my own breathing.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Sun

Against the stiff breeze and towards the sea

we walk.

Our path is freckled with slippery ice.

When fingers numb and a double layer of stockings

is not enough

to protect the thighs.

There is something more precious than our bodies.

Scacrifie of comfort is cheap,

when light is what hearts desire.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Melting

They are young, younger,

travelling from north to south,

adding the final touches to their make-up.

To be what they want to be,

and they are,

beautiful.

I look at them

when the fog envelops the carriage,

snow is melting, turning into water,

already dripping wet on the surface of the wagon.

Creating creeks from what once was ice.

They are young, younger,

travelling from north to south

for the party.

But it is us who left the furnace on.

And mascara stains their smooth cheeks.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Soft

She rests her forehead on the surface of the cold glass.

Behind the window, bending white they sleep.

Majestic in their softness.

Unaware of following her

in her dream,

carrying the remains of the day.

We are going home,

my first one and I,

and the blue light on their branches

is her blessing.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Down

I follow a crinkled surface all the way down.

You make yourself visible.

There is no room for guesswork.

Water presses at the tips of my fingers

and when I spill,

it leaves a mark.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Covered with snow

Those few hours

when I see you.

The contours of familiar.

And I am in you

only briefly.

When time is short

you must look

lovingly.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Five unalike

I took a bus through white Helsinki

walked the corridors of consumerism.

Irrevocably

wearing black we gathered.

Five glasses unalike placed on the shaky table

careful in crafting the space between the words

holding the threads of light in the darkness of the mundane.

It was not much

but it was more than

yesterday

so fragile is hope.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Lynx

Cracks on the surface of the lake.

Brushstrokes from heaven.

Every step I take I break.

You are more careful,

soft paws imprinted on the snow.

Following in your footsteps,

I feel I’m not alone,

for a while,

and when I leave, you do not know.

I hear the gunshots only later.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Cold

How cold is cold?

You ask.

Nobody knows.

While a white blanket hangs above the treetops.

There is not enough time to craft a new day.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Crackle of the fire

Crackle of the fire,

and I wait.

It’s not yet the time.

While those three,

the ones with courage,

are Captured, Silenced,

the words inscribed on their bodies.

It’s fast.

Sweat,

already forming brooks on the naked skin, exposed.

And I wonder,

do you hear the crackle of the fire?

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Those two

Those two, warm-blooded

breathing the same air

embodied in their stillness.

Water vapour condenses above their muzzles in the cold morning.

Who would ask for the world beyond that?

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]

Retribution

World with a few colours

is quiet.

Covered with white,

are the scars of unforgiven.

You keep me moving,

but I will never reach.

I saw she knows.

Branches broken in the wind

scattered on the frozen ground.

From the anthology - A Winter

[ecologyalike]