Spring has arrived

Some days, I look to the sky,

Which was, at some point, far and high.

As this cage turns gradually more and more grey,

I wonder, and wonder:

How high was the sky?

Grey is the sky on a long winter day,

Filling the world with snow,

And promises of a colder tomorrow.

When was the last time I saw the sun?

When was the last time I was welcomed with open arms?

When was the last time I left this place of grey

Just to be met with another sky filled with grey?

The world was cold when I entered this place,

Snow lining the edges of windows all around.

Frost was present all over the ground,

Softly crunching as I stepped down.

The world is cold, so cold, so cold,

A ruthless emptiness tearing at our hearts.

As I look up at the ceiling, so grey and confining,

I recall to myself:

Winter is not kind.

The world is not kind.

The confines of the cage around me keep my head straight,

Let me forget about the outside and burn in self-hate.

For despite the complaints about all the grey,

I was the one who put myself in this cage.

The outside world is not a kind place,

Hardly a place to run to, only a prompt to make haste.

For despite all the struggles, all the challenges you face,

There will never be an ending, not even a resting base.

The rush has not ceased inside this place;

It has only changed face.

It is no less gruelling, no less ruthless or cruel,

But at the very least, it’s in the confines of a mellower place.

I do not wish to see the sun,

The blinding, stinging, scorching sun.

The warmth is overwhelming,

Searing deep into my skin,

Melting fragments of ice that I’d die to keep in.

I do not wish to leave this place,

This place, so filled with grey, that gives me the dream

That everything that is grey

Has been allowed to cease.

I do not wish to leave this place,

This place, in which there are no liars or games of pretend.

There is no false compassion or strings attached,

Only the illusion that soon, this too will be allowed to end.

Where was the sun when I locked myself in this place?

Where was the love and compassion that everyone had promised?

Now, I see grey, and only grey,

But perhaps it’s better this way.

This is, after all, all that the world will ever be.

When was the last time I saw the sun?

When was the last time I needed to run?

When was the last time I left this place,

And touched the sky around me?

When did the sun become so bright?

When did the snow melt;

When did the grass become so light?

The colours around me are bright, too bright,

Filled with flowers and songbirds that sear into my eyes.

The world is suffocating, brimming with new life,

Promising brilliant skies and a brighter tomorrow.

Where has the grey of winter gone?

Where is the snow, the frost, the cold?

Where is the cruel kindness in the numbing frostbite,

The promise that everything would cease, if only for a second?

But as I look around a second time,

I see that winter has ceased to show her face.

The snow is gone, along with the frost,

And the promises of a colder tomorrow.

The world waits for no one,

Not for you,

Not for me,

Not even for winter.

The flowers are in bloom and the trees are filled with leaves.

Ah.

Spring has arrived.