I stood, trying to decipher a jumbled ice pan. Behind me, open water, beyond the ice, our camp.
We could have backtracked, gone around. I went over.
On the ice, synapses fire, I am alive. The domain of humanity is defined by wildness, somewhere between grace and violence.
I yearn to live, submit to this Earth, disappear into my lover’s eyes.
At times I live in that place.
At times, troubled in the night, I reach out and find comfort in her familiar form.
At times I am utterly lost.
But in the looking, I find glimpses of myself.
Author: Dave Weir Photo: Sarah Matula