Saturday, February 11, 2012


my intensity, it haunts me, i have a friend she so intense, and she is lovely. no one runs away from her. my husband, my good ol' faithful husband, he is still with me. There is no intensity in snow. snow, it's patient, so very patient here. i don't like the idea that life gives lessons. did you see the snow today? on the sidehill. it had a shining crust of ice, the sun, the sun who's so intense, it made the ice a silver sheet. the patient snow safely underneath.
7 months of snow, why can't i just be me? why do i think i can't be me? i looked a paintings of my paul today, i love him as intensely as i ever did. deeply do i long for him, and so i long for other men, because my inability to give him snow, is what i think made him more silent than a cold spell of 40 below. a south wind blew, yet another man i meet; i want him badly, i long for him so deeply, really i barely know him, not taking time for pleasantries. i love the kind, they reach for me almost instantly, they reach for diamonds that i offer them. I might say, should we not take it a little slower. but really that would make me so uncomfortable, to wait for things i want to happen. so now, only now, this time around i will give him space like air trapped under snow. The snow it does change and when you step upon that silver sheet,
it will collapse quite wonderfully. i will give him space, i will try this time, even if he talks he wants me now, now deeply, fill me totally. i will try to be the winter here and take it slow.
slow slow slow forever all night long, will my faked silence be rewarded.
so i can be the sun.
i never thought i would speak this way
but i can try

1 comment:

  1. we do many things we never thought possible if we allow what is in us. i think if you allow the time, too, the silence, the snow, you will grow much larger than you thought possible, and i think even that will feed your intensity. it is tension, after all, which grows intensity. imagine the tension between such polar opposites as fire and ice.

    i wonder, katrin, what it is you really long for, what it is we all really long for. i am beginning to believe (see) that our bodies are only metaphors for a larger and more enduring landscape, even beyond the one of ice and snow that we can see.

    your photograph is incredibly beautiful.

    even though i keep my clothes on, i touch trees and know nakedness, too.