Expose your wounds,
gashes and craters
to the elements.
Bathe in the frozen snow,
and scratch against the ice
with your swollen hands and feet.
See those bubbles of exasperating sighs
within your tense conflicting muscles.
Try and hold that repetitive pattern
of survival, and hope, and longing,
as your fingers leave the edge,
with not a fall from grace,
but into that dumb luck
of finding what you only
thought you never knew.