Farewell to the Frozen Man

His soul sleeps,
buried far beneath a long forgotten vertical landscape,
yearning for home . . .
it dreams of places remembered; warm places, complete and innocently raw

The perpetual journey through a cobwebbed labyrinth remains a stygian quest at best,
an unanswered prayer, a dimly lit votive, a quiet cry in the dark
the clouds thicken, the earth cools and a winter of the mind settles in

Rolling waves of emotion yield snowflakes of blue
that fall like sleet, slicing the spirit into oh, so many unrecognizable pieces of what used to be a life; where nothing fits or belongs but must somehow remain

still . . .

Who knows when, this sadly shattered thing will end
Only God knows when it started,
But it’s wearing pretty thin, as the winter settles in, covering the frozen man . . .

ps. love you.
m&m

38 Comments

  • You make me miss reading good writing.
    You make me miss writing.
    You make me feel things when I thought I was done for the day.
    You make me repeat myself in comments which just reconfirms that
    you make things possible that most of just can only dream of.


    You make me blush, Spaz.
    Thanks so much for the comment.
    Coming from you it means alot.
    ~m

  • Melancholy thoughts strung together by beautiful, delicate words.

    I would say “melancholy thoughts” in the way Tim Burton is melancholy.
    Thanks, Moonbeam.
    ~m

  • I always said you have a poet in you, trying to scratch and claw his way out.

    -smith

    :mrgreen:
    ~m

  • your father?

    Yes, my dad . . .
    ~m

  • This post is making me think you are writing about me since my furnace went out. That is the exact word that comes from my mouth about 20 times a day. FROZEN.

    If you are, thanks. LoL!


    Funny, Grimm.
    Sending some “heat wishes” your way . . .
    Think warm!
    ~m

  • oh michael, it’s rare i’m stuck for words, but i am here…ordinarily i would find some little thing to make you smile, but these words? nothing….
    will email at some point tomorrow night when i settle down a little bit….this has got to me…
    moe

    I’ll wait for the email . . .
    Thanks for reading this.
    ~m

    >

  • a sadness beyond melancholy

    Nail, meet head, Ozy.
    ~m

  • Well done, michael.

    Thanks, Lolly.
    This is something that came out of nowhere.
    Strange.
    ~m

  • Had to come back to this.
    I am not sure you realise how good this is.
    I am not sure I do.
    Just another piece of proof that the best writing has to come from within.
    Trouble is, most people don’t know how to translate.
    I’m with Smith on this all the way (since you’re blushing and grinning already ;-) ).

    No, I don’t think I do.
    Truth be told, I’m just putting down what’s there.
    No rhyme, no reason. Go figure . . .
    Thanks again for reading this.
    The stats on it are nuts.
    ~m

  • I’ve read this so many times and it evokes a different feeling in me after each read. It’s inspiring stuff.
    ‘where nothing fits or belongs but must somehow remain’
    Wow.


    This writer sometimes finds difficulty responding to so many wonderful comments.
    I’m glad you enjoyed it. Not too much more I can say.
    Stop back again.
    ~m

  • See Michael, THIS is why I like coming here. You wear your heart on your sleeve in such a poetic way that makes those of us who have never been in your position understand for a brief moment the heartache you are going through. I just wanna hug you, and your dad.

    Cheers, Kelly


    Thanks, Kelly. Much appreciated.
    ~m

  • oh, M squared…

    this post comes at a strange and somewhat wonderful time.

    a. full moon last night…

    b. i just accepted a position as nurse manager of the alzheimer’s unit at a facility in natick.

    your words are so beautiful and poignant. may i ask your permission to do this piece in calligraphy {with props, of course} to matte and frame and hang in my new office space?

    i am so proud that i know you. i hope your own words bring you some fraction of inner peace. Lord knows you have paid enough for it.

    – journaling Whyvonne

    Go for the calligraphy. I’m honored.
    Can’t think of a better place for my words to be.
    Make sure you send me a pic when it’s done.
    peace,
    ~m

  • *tear*

    Thanks, Red.
    As with most of my stuff, I feel this was written so very long ago.
    I’ve already shed my share of tears for the man.
    But Lord only knows, there will be more.
    best,
    ~m

  • I’ve read this numerous times and it leaves me speechless every time, which is why I haven’t left a comment before. I echo Spaz, this is so very very good. I love it when you write from the heart.

    Jennifer

    From the heart, it was.
    Thanks for the email, Jen
    ~m

  • All is not frozen…..
    Your Dad’s heart and spirit may be tired, but not frozen. Your heart and spirit, like your Dad’s, gets tired,but remains caring and full of sunshine, for your Dad and the special memories you have shared!
    Let the sunshine on…..

    :-)


    Let the sun shine on the Frozen Man . . .
    Thanks, Lynn.
    ~m

  • very very nice….

    it’s sooo fucking good to be back.. i told you i’d come for you all… and one by one i am!

    Waiting for that new URL, gurlfriend!
    Send it on . . .
    ~m

  • [...] Smoke & Mirrors In a perfect world. . . « the Frozen Man [...]

  • This is beautiful but melancholy, sad, and I think I shivered a little bit.

    I wish you warmth.

    Thanks, D
    Spring is just around the corner. ;)
    ~m

  • Thanks for sharing what’s in your heart with us. I know writing this stuff doesn’t come easy – or perhaps on some days it flows but it does come and hey, thanks and much love to you and yours.

    You’ve helped someone today.

    I hope I’ve helped. Tanks . . .
    ~m

  • me is absolutely IMMMMpressed. loved this.
    here’s to the first spring thaw.
    kim

    A thaw would be very welcome.
    I can’t wait.
    ~m

  • After my Dad finally was so violent and confused that he was a danger to himself and my Mom, he had to be kept apart. I could handle it there in the home, feeding him, patting his hand, bringing him stuffed animals to cuddle. What I couldn’t stand was the rare occasion, the very rare occasion, when the veil would lift … he’d look at me … and he’d say, “I love you, Linda.” In that split second, flash of light, he was back, and then he was gone again.
    M, I have nobody else to talk with about this. Thank you for offering a shoulder to us all. And thank you for accepting ours.

    As I told you, email me.
    I’m a great listener (reader).
    Thank you for sharing your all too tender moment.
    I understand.
    ~m

  • tried to understand… but am too sleepy :( .. will be back to read again…


    Mommm back . . .
    ~m

  • [...] wanted to take a moment and thank all of you for responding to my post “the Frozen Man“. The writing of it took less than 45 minutes while the editing took several hours. I’m [...]

  • I am overwhelmed. As a writer I am impressed, as a human being I am humbled.

    Nice comment, Archie.
    I thank you.
    ~m

  • Thanks. My father is frozen too. I know those snowflakes of blue.

    I really appreciate you stopping by and commenting.
    I understand all too well the pain associated with the disease.
    Read some of my other posts under the “alzheimer” tag.
    They will at least make you feel less alone.
    Thanks again for the visit.
    Quite a son-in-law you have there . . . :mrgreen:
    ~m

  • [...] morning I’m going to pick up a gift; a wonderful gift. A while back I wrote something called “the Frozen Man” and I had no idea it would evoke the kind of response that it did. I received numerous emails [...]

  • [...] original post here. [...]

  • “Only God knows when it started”. I really feel this one, Michael. It must have hurt to write – but then there’s the catharsis.

    Kat

  • I hadn’t read any of your poetry before… thanks for your post today or I would have missed out. This is lovely and moving… wow.

    Thanks so much, Cas.
    Glad you liked it.
    ~m

  • Your poetry is beautiful and rich with light and dark layers and levels making it necessary to read it more than once which is what good poetry is suppose to do. Good job. Peace, Sharie

    This is one of my favorite pieces of writing.
    I refuse to call it poetry but . . .
    The words here explain my father, even today.
    My heart aches . . .
    Thank you for the comment.
    I love when people read this post.
    It made my day. Honestly.
    ~m

  • …finally gone home to be with his beloved.

    i am heartily sorry for your loss, but happy that he is finally free.

    love, and peace, to you…and your girls

  • *big hug*

    Thanks again for sharing your world with all of us.

  • I see you in silhouette against a blue black sky- lightening illuminating you. Cry in the dark indeed.

    oh my, the pictures you paint in my head my friend.

  • cold. sad. aching. i felt this one, too.

  • It’s not only that you’re going through this, but it’s the way you express it. It is one of God’s gifts to help you cope. (I call him my Holy Ghost Writer, but he’s obviously working with you too.)

    Kat :smile:

  • ~m: My thoughts and my prayers are with you and your family right now.

    (((Hugs)))

  • No longer frozen, your dear father is finally home. But my heart aches for you. Will keep you in my thoughts and prayers.

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