Something About Resilience
by Samantha Julio
After “Winter Landscapes” by Sesshū Tōyō
What says winter better than snow sticking?
The nestless trees, or the hushful winds?
Perhaps it is the chatter of canines upon
cracking bones, or the rumble of foodless
bellies that send flocks skyward
and leave bodies unsteady.
There is talk about the lonely —
How there is no salve for absence.
That even in the deepest embrace,
there is distance.
Talk about a state so primal
it can only be described as barbaric.
They will convince you the only way
to survive the season is by
sleeping through the cold.
That stationary is a form of living
and anything other is revolutionary.
In retrospect, we are so small on the face of this earth.
But beneath our ribs, a seed stirs.
Beneath our skin, an ocean swells.
Now, there are melted patterns across
mountainsides from the heat of our soles,
and a distinct stillness between each ascending step,
as if intention were born in altitude,
taking in the height of this cliff.
When the heart beats in defiance, remember:
This is not a rebellion — it is pulse.