The language of Ice

My skates glided
over your smooth, cold surface –
and as I moved through the still night air, I heard your voice, in a language I did not understand.
It echoed and billowed,
wailed and whispered,
cracked and creaked.
"What are you saying to me?" I asked.
"What are you trying to tell me?" 
But you only returned with silence. And that I don't understand.
When you speak to me, is it a warning to stay away from the icy waters below?
Is your song like a siren's, trying to lure me to my doom?
Or are you waiting for a reply to your call, a reply in the language of ice?

 

Profile picture for user wildcat

wildcat

VT

16 years old

More by wildcat

See all

  • Poetry

    By wildcat

    alive

    The stars are reflected in the glimmer of the headlamp's light on the snow

    And the air is frozen-- it feels like the sensation of holding your hand under water so burning hot that

    it begins to feel cold

    somehow.

    Read More

  • Poetry

    By wildcat

    November

    A day as grey as

    the clouds above it

    And the hills, which have changed from green to orange to purple to a deepest blue in the fading light

    with a few bursts of yellow from the beech trees, holding on in their marcescence

    Read More

  • Poetry

    By wildcat

    pondering

    If life is full of the little things

    like skating on smooth black ice and laughing with a friend

    then I have nothing to look forward to

    because there is good in every day.

    Read More