Mitch
08/07/08, 08:45 AM
Back-story: When I was in eighth or ninth grade, I had many nightmares of nuclear attacks. It was after 9/11, and it was all I ever seemed to hear about on the news my parents always had turned on. One dream I remember was what I had interpreted a "nuclear winter" to be like. It was a warm summer night, but snow fell to the streets underneath a moonlit sky. My family and I sat in our rocking chairs on the porch and just watched, not knowing how to handle the situation. We watched all the young children play, finding what was terrifying to us to be exciting. It was a winter on a summer night. I even remember trying to draw the scene the next afternoon, but to no success despite have a clear image of it in my head.
"Winter on a Summer Night"
The snow in this summer air isn't normal
Melting to steam and a thousand gaspful screams
The cracks in the street, the stars twinkling down
Try to swallow it whole but no,
Not even the dark can hide that this summer night is turning white.
Underneath the streetlamp
The snow swims through the yellow glow
Falling, floating with grace and covering all
"Let me fly with you, let me be,"
"I need to bless these children and their gloveless hands"
The parents watch from wooden chairs,
As their young ones play, making angels that stare up
To a sky where seasons meet.
White rocking chair, sway me slowly
For I want to feel movement in a frozen frame.
The glaciers wrapped their arms around a tired sun
Too exhausted to drift away, Hell embraced the glacier's legs.
Nuclear winter, is this just the start?
Then tell me, why still are the skiers skiing
And why the players simply playing?
The churchgoers are praying and it clearly must be working
For on the inside they can't see, the freezing, falling fig trees
"The cross on top is even shining," but they've mistook the shine from ice
And dear old Pastor Godsent's told them everything's alright.
All the addicts leave their spots
They swim in the snow as if to wonder
Is it just that they no longer feel the cold?
Kissing saints made from the ice
Just to prove to themselves that they haven't grown old.
And I'm left to sit
Watching children play under chilly skies and watching them
Wonder why their breathes can't form those familiar clouds
Some bury themselves in igloos
Ignorant to the irony
But blissful in a scary scene.
"Winter on a Summer Night"
The snow in this summer air isn't normal
Melting to steam and a thousand gaspful screams
The cracks in the street, the stars twinkling down
Try to swallow it whole but no,
Not even the dark can hide that this summer night is turning white.
Underneath the streetlamp
The snow swims through the yellow glow
Falling, floating with grace and covering all
"Let me fly with you, let me be,"
"I need to bless these children and their gloveless hands"
The parents watch from wooden chairs,
As their young ones play, making angels that stare up
To a sky where seasons meet.
White rocking chair, sway me slowly
For I want to feel movement in a frozen frame.
The glaciers wrapped their arms around a tired sun
Too exhausted to drift away, Hell embraced the glacier's legs.
Nuclear winter, is this just the start?
Then tell me, why still are the skiers skiing
And why the players simply playing?
The churchgoers are praying and it clearly must be working
For on the inside they can't see, the freezing, falling fig trees
"The cross on top is even shining," but they've mistook the shine from ice
And dear old Pastor Godsent's told them everything's alright.
All the addicts leave their spots
They swim in the snow as if to wonder
Is it just that they no longer feel the cold?
Kissing saints made from the ice
Just to prove to themselves that they haven't grown old.
And I'm left to sit
Watching children play under chilly skies and watching them
Wonder why their breathes can't form those familiar clouds
Some bury themselves in igloos
Ignorant to the irony
But blissful in a scary scene.