Defrost

K. L. Whitmer

I wrote Defrost after a meeting with my therapist. It explores the quiet ways fear can immobilize a life and the slow, often uncomfortable work of returning to motion. Using winter as its landscape, the poem reflects on control, connection, and the moment when self-protection gives way to presence.

Defrost

Everything freezes this time of year,

The fields, the branches, the brittle ground.

I watch the season lock itself in fear,

And recognize that same still sound.

We are made for warmth, for gathered skin,

For voices close, for shared belief.

But when they leave, a doubt creeps in,

A quiet terror dressed as grief.

I fear departure means decay,

That once they go, they’re gone for good.

So I convince myself to stay

Exactly how I think I should.

If I don’t crack, if I don’t break,

If I perform what keeps them near,

Then no one leaves, no risks are taken.

That’s where I learned to disappear.

So I stood still inside the cold,

Encased in habits built to please,

Watching other lives unfold

Like footprints passing over me.

Until the light began to press,

A thawing truth I couldn’t block.

The sun revealed what I suppressed,

And heat began to split the rock.

I wasn’t lost, I wasn’t weak,

Just locked inside a frozen role.

Ice held my words I wouldn’t speak,

Fear kept its fingers on control.

Now I am learning how to say

What I mean without retreat.

Not every look is mine to take,

Not every wound is mine to keep.

I learned projection isn’t fate,

Their ice is not a mark on me.

I learned to talk when it feels late,

To choose honesty over peace.

I cannot change another’s path,

Or keep their footsteps in my track.

I only own my stance, my acts,

My effort forward, never back.

So I step out, the cold still near,

But no longer holding my breath.

I move, imperfect, present, clear,

Choosing life instead of depth.

And now I ask you, standing still,

Beneath the weight of it all:

Are you alive by force of will,

Or are you just waiting to thaw?