Winter is trying to kill me

The cold,

like the ocean,

is always trying to kill you.

to love winter

is to live close to death—

to allow loss and stillness to reside within you

without turning from yourself.

I skin slowly through the woods

trying my best to be still.

to not fight or judge or doubt

myself

but to simply see

myself,

stripped bare and unsteady.

Sometimes I feel like the cold

is getting inside and I am dying.

to love winter

you must be okay with your ugliness

for your darkness will always come.

the cold is always trying to kill you

but you must love yourself just the same.

you must look her in the eye

and tell her you are choosing to live,

to love

despite the cold

despite your darkness

despite death

forever remaining

the intersection of all our paths.