Snow-hushed, the world is still and silent,
Fallen between what should be and what is.
Suspended in this world, daily life pauses, fails
As all life is tasked anew.
Beneath the ground the dead care not, for cold
And ice and blizzard cannot trouble them.
Yet we, the survivors, still feel the burden,
despite the deftness of snow.
The battle was with death, and was not lost
For here we are, remembering those departed.
But if their lives were not in vain why is it then
We feel their weight still heavy?
I wanted to get across the feeling of suspension that heavy snowfall brings and the feelings of loss both of normal daily life and the loss of war. Often routine makes loss ease, but anything that disrupts this can disturb old wounds.
By their nature, all snowflakes are exceptional.