Ice melts
slowly
over time,
revealing
bits and pieces,
archeological
sites
ripe for discovery,
voices
long frozen
released,
singing joy
as well as
shouting atrocities
incased in crystalline
structure
that melts in
the steady
stream of daylight sun,
burning white
on hidden secrets,
desires, and wants…
Like the love
that melts the heart,
the breaking opening
that hurts
yet is unavoidable,
like a rose and its thorns
like the touch of our lips…
©Lea Goode-Harris, Ph.D.
October 8, 2003