A Writer's Words

Part 4: Deep Roots Are Not Reached By Frost

Her eyes met mine. Under the flurry of clouds and snow, the dusky horizon seemed to loom ever closer. My breath fogged the air between us, drops crystalizing in the freezing air falling to the ground; one with the snow.

I did not care that the snow bit at my uncovered nose, and shrouded my booted-feet in a cold so bitter, it hurt.

She did not care that her uncovered hair was full of snowflakes - still pristine, stubbornly unmelting. For her heart had turned to ice, colder than this snow and the gales that howled, this wind that tore at us and blew my breath away. 

Not a word we said, leaving our words to the wind and seeing each other only in the eyes, for fear that our mouths would freeze as truly as our throats had in the cold.

A torment of misery blew around inside her eyes. Behind emerald sunshine stood a jumbled rainbow, each color painted with a different brush. Tornadoes that whipped across her soul, slashing cutting until she was no more than a shattered piece of glass. What had become of her rainbow soul, and sunshine smiles?

She was, in that moment, truly no more. No more emerald eyes, the ones that gave hope as willingly as friendship.

No more hugs, which warmed one through as thorough as a fire's sparks.

No more trust, for that window of truce had been broken long ago, and any chances we may have had to procure another were crushed. 

By whom?

By her.

But this 'no-more' did not mean anything to what lay on the inside. Sheltered evermore in the eye of the storm. 

Her soul, still singing rainbows through the howling winds and undulating clouds that tear through her mind. Still seeking sanctuary in another's mind, where torment and pain are nothing but shadows, cast harmless against the wall.

Sheltered within roots, dug deep into her past. For the eldest trees are the only ones which brave through such storms as these; ones who have burrowed deep into their surroundings, and will stay, whatever it takes.

So, even if on the outside, cold has taken over, and the snowflakes and whipping winds seem one with her cold emerald eyes, she is still the same girl on the inside.

Though her storms cast her sunshine out, and tore her mind to pieces. Her soul is not in fragments, as her heart and mind are. It still sings rainbows.

For deep roots are not reached by frost.