Where I live, nature doesn’t talk, it yells.

In the winter, the chalky snow adds new smells.
Right now, the fragile snow continues to emerge from the sky.
Today is a snow day, and I can’t stay in bed if I try.
I wake my brother Alexander, we put on our gear briskly and step into the light.

We tromp around in the deep, white snow for a while,
with nothing but happy thoughts, nothing vile.
As my brother notices the sheer abundance of snow,
we look at each other, thinking the same, and we know.
We were going to bury one another, with a risk so slight.

Alexander digs a body-sized hole.
I lay inside as he covers me, losing most of my control.
I pull my comforting hat over my face as he wails, “If you can’t breathe, yell!”.
He coats my face with snow, and I feel as if I’m in a cold, dark cell.
I shudder under the pressure of the snow, and lose all delight.

I begin to panic, I scream, I need to live.
No more hope a fist, a voice, or a shovel can give.
I have lost all energy, feeling, and air.
It shouldn’t end like this, it can’t end here, it just isn’t fair.
My mind screams as I sense defeat in this last, undignified fight.

All the weight seems to fall away instantly.
I open my eyes, and shockingly, I realize Alexander is pulling me out of the snow decisively.
As I regain feeling in my limbs, I thank him, as if I am thanking God.
I ask my brother if we can go sledding, above the snow, not below, and he replies with a nod.
I begin to reflect on my disastrous and reckless idea of fun, and how I lost sight.

I instantly think about others’ near death experiences, far worse than mine.
Suddenly, I laugh, and realize I am just fine.
Some people don’t live, and many that do, don’t have anything to run back to.
I’m safe, I’m strong, and I’ll stick to my life like glue.
My whole wretched experience makes my respect for my life and others’ lives swing to a new height.