Competition, poetry by Beatrice Yahena Icasiam at
Ralph Nas



written by: Beatrice Yahena Icasiam



Cold is the lack of heat;
and the cold you feel —
from the very soles of your feet,
until the end of your fingertips —
up to the frosted strands of your hair;
consumes you from outside to within.
Cold is the lack of heat.
You aren’t that cold;
you can thank the deities for that.
There is still heat,
there is still heat.
You try to repeat that
in your head again and again,
and you crave to feel it —
you try to imagine the heat that’s already there,
but you never feel the heat.
You aren’t that cold —
there is still heat;
But coldness clouds your feelings.
It is all you feel now.
The heat is still there,
but it’s small enough
that it’s nothing. Nothing at all;
but try and tell me
that the heat you feel is not real.

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