Poem III: For Moja
If you manage to hold hard against the freezing, biting cold, I promise summer will come. That big ball of fire will catch and warm cheeks once numb. When you're standing alone and you're shaking to your toes, don't fold your head into your chest. Clamp eyes tight and take your trusted rest. Rest for days if you have to. Howling creatures are just noise. Howling mouths are just boys. Clamp eyes tight and smear on a smile. It'll take time to find anything worth your while, but as long as you feel your feet hover, you'll find all this easy to discover, so feel it. Feel it all. Feel it all. The... the fall, the songs, the base, the crawl, the stamping and the dancing, the faces with clear eyes, the streetlights that cut the dark, parents clinging at the park, bobbing bodies soft to beats, the way she smiles so sweet, growing souls, growing bold, growing old. Don't fold. Keep your hands shut and hold. Don't let terror keep you from the sweet and you'll find you'll come out alive from the heat, sleek and complete. Moja Vesna, by Sara Kern.