“Weather is a great metaphor for life, sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and there’s nothing much you can do about it but carry an umbrella.” – Terri Guillemets
A few days ago, most of us had never even heard the term “bombogenesis.” Now, many of us who live on the east coast are experiencing the first ‘bomb cyclone’ of our lives. It looks like an ordinary snowstorm to me, but in any case, I’m happy to be working from home today and presenting this poem by one of our users, a college student in upstate New York. I hope everyone in the region is safe and warm this snowy winter day. Enjoy the cyclone! – Jay Boll, Editor in Chief.
Snow Fails to Tell Our Story
by Kevin Thompson
Rarely does snow not stick
to the ground.
Buffalo
The city of snow
where I grew
blizzards, a white—
out where I cannot see
my own hand.
Snowfall never seems to stop
in New York.
When storms hit,
No power
No television white-outs—
another world of white
outside my window—
my skin makes me an outsider.
In winter, daylight is stolen
black skies bring misery.
Weathered by discrimination,
mouths are shut by power.
Snow is pure, magical
but isn’t soil?
Soil,
brings life to our world.
Planting seeds and spirits
in hopes to revive
a culture dead
from winter.
Hands buried under
the cool minerals that cover
my knuckles, and uncover
my history.
Ancestors uprooted modern America—
stolen dignity and sheltered sins.
To start this country in soil,
and end
six feet under cotton.
When snow melts, leaves grow—
flowers bloom—
and we spring
out of roots
that hold our identity.
But snow is snow,
and dirt is dirt.
Maybe one day snow will take its place
next to soil—
instead of on top.
Author Bio: Kevin Thompson began writing poetry-style literature in his first year of college at SUNY Geneseo. As a Biology major, he continues to improve his creative writing career through lectures and English workshops.
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