Shed all the old, the un-useful, the non-life-giving forms. Shed the less-than, the barnacles, the ephemeral guilt so deeply planted in my brain. See it and shed it. Find it and dissolve it into a new form, a form that gives life for new generations, a form that is shaped from old, from wisdom.
A form that honors those who told and never told, who sang, who prayed, who mumbled, who muttered, who stern-looked their way through life, who tisked at the follies of men, who birthed and sang with their hearts full. This is the new form rising. From snow.
Photo credit: Carlos Ginard