For Want of a Fire - Dec 12 2022

 

For Want of a Fire

Dec 12 2022

Damp wood.

Fingers numb

hands stiff with cold.

Even the wind conspires,

snuffing out match after match

the moment it sparks

until only one is left.

To start a fire,

depleted, shivering

chilled to the core.

And the last match,

will it catch

or not?

Life

reduced to survival;

the mind

stripped of its distractions

and all the needless chatter

that fills our heads.

So all that really matters

is the existential need

for warmth.

We were soaked to the skin

and our strength was quickly waning.

So as darkness descended

we huddled close;

sharing precious body heat,

talking of love and regret.

We felt an unexpected calm

come over us,

a fatalism

that felt as if a weight had been lifted

we hadn't even known was there.

So, was this acceptance?

                      . . . resignation?

                                     . . . defeat?

Is this how it ends?

Not heroically,

but like a small animal

who goes limp and glassy-eyed

in its predator's deadly jaws.

At least a death of cold

is most merciful;

a slowing of the brain,

a softened awareness,

the absence of pain.

Which is how they found us

naked in the snow;

bodies stiff,

locked in an embrace,

pale faces

betraying no distress.

How people dying of cold

typically undress.

This paradox

of hypothermia

is poorly understood.

But perhaps a fitting end

for lovers lost in the woods;

who had vowed from the start

to spend their lives together

until death do us part.