War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

lazarus (13)

somewhere along the frozen river
mountain ash, clusters, snow drifts
through groves of birch, aspen
we trudged, come Lazarus come
I said, kissed him full on his frozen lips,
and little birds flew to our hands
little birds pecked at apples I’d brought,
took them from my pocket, crunched bits,
I gave Lazarus his own, and some peanuts.

we hiked for hours, this tired, tired man
trudged through snow like it was
Afghanistan, but so damn cold,
I urged him on, he smiled at me
Goddamn this feels so good
and we were proud to be alive
together, after all we’d seen,
all we’d been handed.

later we strolled a city street,
he bought sweet smelling things
for him and me, lovely lemony cream
lemony sweet as love and a fire
in deep, frozen winter.


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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled lazarus (13). It was posted here on August 06, 2011.

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