I am from the soundless land, a place with arctic temperatures,

a place where the icicles dangle off the gutters,

a place where the sub-freezing nights sparkle with stars.

I am from the white snow, a place with hot chocolate and cozy fireplace nights,

a place where the decayed grass frosts over,

a place where the timberwolves howl in the starry night.

I am from the land of 10,000 lakes,

a place where the rivers and lakes slow their currents, a place where I would come home with rosy cheeks and a runny nose, a place where civilization adapts to mother nature's freeze.

I am from the state described as depressing, a place where communities unite as one, a place where cities litter with poverty,

a place where the unbearable windchill affects those without homes.

I am from Minnesota, a place where the gentle breeze blows during winter, a place where my deceased loved ones flow with the arctic winds,  

a place I refer to as Arctic Absence.