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

burst

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.