Lost
They ski through the northern boreal
forest, over frozen
lake after frozen lake
until finally where the ice cracks
like gun shots beneath
their skis, and their eye lashes
are thick with white frost, the man
slows and says to his ten
year old daughter, “If my heart
stops beating right now
what will you do?”
She says, “I’ll continue
forward.” “No,” he says, “you’ll
follow our tracks safely
back.” And years later
after his pulse
has stilled she again finds
the way
to the deep safe cold
of this heart warmed place.
from Wavelengths of Your Song (McGill-Queen’s University Press)
Photograph by Eleonore Schönmaier
