St. Sebastian
walked, mid January,
through snowy wood
stepping lightly the tracks
of those traveled before,
leaving some for those behind.
no turns but trees to rest upon
no crickets to sing or call
no voices but those of
my companions
no other sounds,
the winds unfettered,
but that of our feet
crushing through
and impermanent.
as I looked further,
down the trodden path
we traveled,
it was Sebastian I thought of
and his arrows
- Hoc Scripsi
image courtesy of Magpie Tales, #50
Excellent Jhon!
ReplyDeleteSebastian the martyr...
Fine writing. What winter is doing to us... :-)
ReplyDeletewhen i was pregnant with my son, i dreamed his name....Sebastian
ReplyDeleteso of course, i love this...because of the way he takes me down those untrodden paths of my heart.
I love how you weaved in the Sebastian element. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteImaginative, and a bit mystical as well. Cold is indeed sharp as arrows. I especially like the middle stanza, with it's naming of absences.
ReplyDeleteEerie, frozen cool!!!
ReplyDeleteChill and deep. It sings of the push/pull of the known and the unknown.
ReplyDeleteGripping. Got me from the opening line.
ReplyDelete