I come to the realisation 

that 

I can’t remember those winters, 

the winters of my childhood. 

It was really good at all times,

and it was really bad. 

Now it’s bad all the time. 

I remember these winters 

the ones that make the tears freeze as they fall, 

the ones that make my hair fall out in little clumps

as I stand behind bars. 

Caged. 

It waged, 

it wages, 

it won. 

That’s the downside of a conflict 

              That 

                     Never 

                               Stops

fitting and fleeing and fighting 

              Just 

                    To 

                          Stop.

I can’t remember the last time I danced. 

Free like you. 

Perhaps never 

    Perhaps I had. 

      Perhaps you couldn’t. 

Its unlikely 

“close your eyes and let it move through you”