Whether to Wake

Snow tucked under his lower lip

Melting into his sleep

Where his thoughts and fears trip

Down into the deep

He moves his limbs, weightless

Sees his body, stateless

Fateless

Undisturbed by the hissing blow

Of wind coming through the window

Sweat beads at the nape of his neck

Streaking across his pillow

In his mind he begins the trek

Towards the fog, forming a billow

That spins up into the skies –

– darkening with every blink

A heaviness invades his eyes

The dream slowly seems to shrink

There is nowhere to wake

Nothing at stake

Nowhere to go

Nothing but the wind’s blow

And the silence of the snow

The emptiness of it

The loneliness of it

Fogs his breath

Opens his mind

To slithering thoughts of death

Slow and thready in his wake

Swift and steady in this state

Hushing the hum of pain

Caught in his throat, a growing stain

He will awaken and decide

Whether to let the dream slide

Away with the day

Out of sight into the next night

Where it’ll haunt away the light

Whether to carry it in his smile

Or sit with it for a little while

Whether to irrevocably escape 

Or whether to wake and wake and wake

Alice Bellan