In winter’s oblivion, in the snowbound cabin’s
unheated sitting room
only my grandparents’ portraits
have returned to the empty farmstead –
I stumble upon them, by the frozen well at night
as if in a dream
where centuries old midwinter linden trees
reach toward heaven on tiptoe,
and in the dark on a bleached
frost-like wall
so lonely, painted after their deaths,
mourning in midwinter
my country grandparents’ portraits,
every day they become more familiar, every day
I come to resemble them more,
myself evidence of their existence.
(Judita Vaiciunaite)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Sadness Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Dreams Poems, Mourning PoemsBased on Keywords: midwinter, snowbound, grandparents, farmstead, frost-like, unheated