Winter Withdrawal
Fingertips clawed raw,
I have buried myself
beneath layers of December,
tunnelling winter’s dark
earth like a mole, clothed
in tumulus. Strata
of shortened days stack
themselves above me.
The world seems not to turn
in the belowscape, where
there is no word for week.
We all have our reasons
for being here. I was mining
solitude, yet found comfort
in a cohort of other excavators:
slow-moving, soft-bodied.
We make a company of quiet.
Lately, I am doughy
in my burrow; but in this unlit
state where shy and hide
sound alike in the muddy
vernacular, I seek and find
seams of sanctuary: precious,
rare. Let January dawn,
February too. I have learnt
to live without light or air.
‘Winter Withdrawal’ is a poem for those long winter months, when it can almost feel like the lighter and longer days will never return. The poem was published in The Storms Journal in October 2023.
© Sarah Doyle