9 Caban
Red Solar Earth
In the Dead of Winter, I
was born---
The Sighs and Cries rang
out for Days
And far into the frigid,
crystal Nights---
I missed the New Year’s Day
Descending late---delaying
My Departure from a warm Womb
Into the cold, white World
In the Dead of Winter, I
was born
With black wet curly Hair
So overgrown and heavy
That “Monkey” or “Medusa”
came to Mind---
Little did I wish to go
another Round on Earth
Or feel another mortal
Wound---
My Eardrums failed to close
My Eyes so large and dark
I always saw nearsightedly
In the Dead of Winter, I
was born---
Life leapt up---dealing
Death
A feisty Blow---
Brittle Bough and
Ice-filled Lake no Match
for
Red hot Blood---the Will to
be---
A fresh young Heart
Making a small Spring
In the Dead of Winter.
©Kleomichele Leeds
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