The Family - part 1

We’ve piled high the snow and sandbags, growing weary of the sleepless nights, yet pushing forward ‘til dawn breaks and our fear turns back. As if to greet us, congratulate our survival, the sunlight leans forward to reveal our newborn lives and worlds, each individually grateful to be welcomed. A thin mist follows the new light, lazily grazing as it comes.

A sharp gash in a window raises alarm, as we are reminded of the risks in exposing ourselves to the outside. The unknown is feared in these times, and fear is our only hope to finding the new light once more when dusk fails.

I observe the women straining with absent mind, arms heavy for our family, they bring supplies, foods, and the blocks of life up hills, through deserts and from stream to ocean, glacier and broken city. They silently pine, hoping to wake from a dream and have this world blow from theirs with the next breeze to pierce the dead night airs.

Brought and left among the remnants of our beds, homes and lives; everything we own lies cradled between the stone walls that keep us well and draped over the frozen rock that holds us down. The harsh winter pins us to our homes, driving us back when we venture out.

Food is scarce and water runs dry over night, opposing the winter at our doorstep, forcing us out of our den to search the fields and pits for our morning meal. In the past, lakes ran through our homes, bringing food and water to greet us, but times have changed and pleasures are lacking for us now; the earth beneath us bears no gifts or rewards, we must search long and hard for those. Our families suffer in the wind and rain as they have never before, facing each storm with the resolve of a country under siege.

The Family - intro

A brilliant collection of records seared on a holographic film
Kept hidden within vault and camouflage
Repressed for a century, cornered upon soft walls
Chilled and masked, blanketed until winters end