solstice burning – Poetry by Han Raschka

mother winter
cradles my head
carries me 
through fire

she looks like my mama
ringlet hair
blue eyes
scarred hands

talks like her too
low husky voice
lullaby to a sleeping world

she runs 
through the flames
arms wrapped tight
around my body
whispers to the wind

I promise you baby
next year will be better. 
Han Raschka

Han Raschka (they/them), is a bipolar, bicoastal, non-binary poet currently residing in Boston, MA. Born in the Midwest and forged by both the arts and an unhealthy dose of Catholic fear, Han spends their time drinking coffee at an unacceptable time, begging their mother for pictures of their three dogs, and writing poetry like it hasn’t gone out of fashion. You can find Han on Facebook, Instagram, and other social media sites.

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