The Plateau

copyright 2008 by Stefan Bolz

It is the hour just before dawn
The sky is cold and grey
Before me, the Tundra extends into infinity
A high plateau—isolated, vast and raw
I stand next to a low fire, looking out onto the horizon
Eleven, maybe twelve years old
A tent not far from me, on the other side of the fire pit

Inside lie my parents
They had just died
My mother passed last night from a short, violent fever
My father’s body is still warm
He died this morning, about an hour ago
His agonizing screams left with him

The chilling wind cuts into me
Complete isolation covers me
Wraps its arms around me
Holds me
Holds me
Won’t let go