the crusher hit – blindsided me. so soon after the turmoil in the soul came the blow that severed me from my last link to the dancing. it left me numb, restless, questioning everything i thought i knew because – platitudes aside – it’s obvious there are some things beyond one’s accomplishment. cold comfort when the puzzle you’ve been part of is complete without you and the bareboned spectre of defeat is peeking sardonically in your window. drawn in, crablike, i think in circles, my carapace worldworn, battered by the heavy seas i’m swimming. time was i saw, far-off but shining, something better to be claimed. now that bright vision has faded to a vaguely-rendered outline, shadowed by time’s delusive remembrance.
too late to celebrate anything but that we've found each other i smile at your smile knowing you are the priest i've been waiting for the one who can read the intricacies of my bones brain blood and all that can be seen only by those with the inner eyes we who have travelled such disparate roads to arrive at this juncture need a miracle to survive the tide is rising red with a furious rage now freed to destroy the foundations of everything we thought could never crumble there's not much time to save ourselves side by side we'll close our eyes spread our arms wide and crying to heaven fledge the feathers needed to lift us above the coming deluge if we don't fly we'll drown
one morning in may
it will be daylight soon. the sky is not yet light; its inky blackness is outlined with rust. a lone bird calls. its chirp carries that same rust, a harsh morning call. it's an odd spring, broken by unmatched days – cold, warm, rain, sun, a checkerboard of inconstancy contrasting sharply with the unvarying sameness of isolation keeping us from the usual delights of the season. the beach is verboten, the golf courses closed, and picnics are out of the question. a brave new adventure in pioneering, all of us left to our own resources, an unnatural environment stretching the limits of sanity and ingenuity. when we're freed from captivity into a strange new world – so much and so many gone – thinking of how long it will take to adapt to a new normal – or if there will be a normal, given the catastrophic upheaval of everything we thought we knew, i tremble, wondering if nothing but a new prison waits.
RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably in New York City Haiku (NY Times, 2/2017), New Contexts 2 (Coverstory Books, 9/2021) in print: 2River, Event, Gargoyle Magazine, the minnesota review, Night Picnic Journal, Plainsongs, Prairie Schooner, Southword, The Ogham Stone, Twelve Mile Review, York Literary Review among many others and appears in numerous online literary journals. She is also one of the winners of the 2021 Connecticut Shakespeare Festival Sonnet Contest, with publication forthcoming.