Wind Chill

This poem first appeared online in the Utmost Christian Writers gallery in 2003. It seems appropriate to place it here with the falling temperatures.

All I wanted
was another layer of warmth
to stave off the chill—
the early January wind bites
through the brick walls
and the thermal underwear.

Goose down, silk turtlenecks
wool vest, cotton chemise
nothing warms me.
Winter enters into my soul,
frost lines my brow.

Snow creeps up the bedroom sill;
I scribe my name on the ice
liming the window
breath fogs, teeth chatter.

A memory of camping:
Sierra mountain elevation,
shivering in a sleeping bag
wearing every stitch I own.
A friend advises, take it all off
climb back in.

Perhaps, it comes to this:
stripping down to bare nakedness
all the insulating layers
imagined in this world
and crawling nude into holiness.
Finding warmth, love, forgiveness
in the raiment of God’s Son
now, before February comes
and winter’s done…

c. Darlene Moore Berg

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