The ceramic of my skin
cracked and cut
the light of my breath
explodes in crystals
on the air
The shards of my body
bent and broken
a twisted tambour
laying in the snow
My glaze is fractured
in the mirror of my eyes
reflecting a spirit
lost in faith
forlorn
The forge of my heart
beats molten crimson
into my cracks
sanguine fissures form
criss-crossing my mortality
mending my vulnerability
into a vessel
of life lived
used
human
broken
in perfection.
All text and images © Dale Schierbeck
Read more of my Poetry
Yowza! What happened, Dale?
Ha! Simply the incongruence of gravity, inertia, icy snow, and a cocky skier coming together. The irony is that after doing a photo series on the beauty of the ice storm, I should have remembered what it would have done to the snow for skiing.
The good news is that it makes for a great story …. 🙂
Oh sh!t. What happened? Judging by your words and hair (I’m guessing a touque had been there) I expect a fall cross-country skiing???
Indeed. A most dramatic tumble. Alive and well and turning it all into poetry. 🙂