It's Still Life

4 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement)

Prologue for the Deaf Listener:
This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.

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4 Vivaldi’s L’Inverno — (Winter) – The Interior

Inside,
the fire does not blaze.
It counts.

One log at a time.
A measured giving
of heat.

Breath learns restraint.
In through the nose,
slow,
as if the air itself
might shatter.

Out again.
White.
Gone.

The heart does not race.
It keeps time
like a watch
worn too long
to be trusted,
yet still obeyed.

Hands curl near the chest.
Not in prayer.
In guarding.

This is shelter:
not walls,
not song,
but the quiet agreement
between flame and flesh
to continue.

Outside, the storm spends itself.
Inside,
something smaller
refuses to go out.