I am in the last December.
Those who have traveled
this far feel the coldness,
the freeze in the joints,
the stiffness of limbs.
I have seen companions
sit down, at last, finally,
on the ice, gesturing
the rest of us on. We
go on. Slow and stumbling
on numb feet, we carry
our frost-bitten hearts
through winter. Holding
fast to each other, we go on.
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