Day 5-Ice Skating

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, five golden rings, four mocking birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree

Lift, glide, push, repeat
Ice
Cold, beautiful, hard
Glistens enticingly
To touch it
To be it
Is one in the same
I don't move
I don't need to
The ice moves for me
Steel blades leave my tracks upon its silvery wake
A smooth sheen that beckons to the brave, the nervous, the skilled
Experts and novices slide by
It doesn't matter how much time you spend with skates laced on your feet
The ice doesn't judge
I'm no master, far from it in fact
but the ice makes me feel like I could be
I've reached a state of magic, of being, that is rather singular to skating
The experience is addicting
I'm drunk on the thrill,
The cold sweat that beads on your back when you're going so fast you think you're flying,
The jolt when you nearly crash then instead scrape by meer inches from another skater
Mittened hands grip bare fingers,
Dragging each other along in the most graceful way possible
The ice doesn't require grace
It gives it freely
As a gift to those who wish to try
A gift of movement without movement
Music throbs through the artificially cold air
I feel myself hum along
My concentration is forever untouched, unbroken
My mind focused on one point
That's an odd, unusual feeling for me, a still mind
It feels free
Free from ways I should or could be 
I'm just me on the ice
Because that's all I can be
The ice wants only vulnerability
No facades or masks
Just you
Just you free from distraction
And sometimes it hurts
So caught up in the moment you don't feel the collision until it has happened
And you sit there for a moment, stunned, as the world skates by and a dull ache begins where you landed
But you smile as someone skates by overhead,
Offers you a cold wrist and grins, making sure you're ok
And you can't help but laugh
And you get up and push back into your rhythm until you're once more hopelessly lost
Circling frozen water for what seems like an eternity that goes by in a second
One more lap, you tell yourself time and time again
Finally, unseen forces, or perhaps busy mothers drag you off your element
And you look back longingly, 
Because your aching feet are no match for your newfound love
And you know that all you want for Christmas
Are a pair of your very own skates
And another trip to heaven

By Vivian



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