Death is the coldest ice and thrice unnice for I had seen it roll the dice to take three friends who skated on thin ice.
Amongst them was one that I wished could had saved if time had a little mercy despite been spiteful to the rest in the incidents.
This tale can make one weep, an unforgettable memory to keep, which transcends deeply to sleep, yet I had strived somehow to get past that event vividly and evidently.
It was one cold winter, where zeal and cheer had come together, we were skating over an icy lake ardently.
Some friends were skiing on a snow nearby and the day was perfect till death came to effect.
Death watched the scene that time displayed and began to set a final destination for my closest friend, bringing the trend of his life to a short thread.
No one noticed the little cracking sound as the icy lake began to break, giving way for the coldest water underneath.
No one noticed when death prowled further as my friend kept losing balance on his slippery little skate boots whilst stampeding on the deafening ice beneath.
It was tiredness and thirst that made me apart, an act to quench moved me away from death's darts.
Taking a warm drink, at the far end of the lake rink, I begn to think how gentle the day had to bring, for everyone was having fun to the brink.
A loud snap of broken ice made me turn behind and there I saw him fell and submerged after he called to me in terror.
I sped fast to the fall, dipped my hand in the ice cold water,
as far and splashed my hands through for a grab but to no avail.
I was unwelcomed by the coldness which sent chills down my spine and almost froze my moving hands perfectly still.
Rescuers came minutes later to retrieve his body and being shielded from sight,
I heard they did eveything to revive yet he became perfectly still.
Present at the graveyard and silently reflecting this sad tale.
I threw a sign to wish him an everlasting peace
and left accepting that we were indeed apart by the coldest ice.
Poet of the Winter · page 16 · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
This poem is a deeply emotional reflection on loss, fate, and the stark finality of death. Using haunting imagery and rhythmic storytelling, it captures the tragic moment when joy turns to sorrow as a friend succumbs to an icy demise. The narrator wrestles with grief, regret, and the cold truth that some things are beyond human control.
The poem opens with a chilling metaphor: "Death is the coldest ice and thrice unnice," immediately setting the tone for a tale of tragedy. The narrator recounts a joyful winter day spent skating with friends until fate intervenes. Three companions fall victim to the treacherous ice, but the narrator focuses on one—someone he wished he could have saved.
As the day unfolds, no one notices the subtle warning signs of danger—the cracking ice beneath them. Death, personified as an ever-present force, watches silently as the inevitable unfolds. The narrator, temporarily separated from the group to quench his thirst, unknowingly avoids disaster. Just moments later, he hears a chilling snap—the ice breaks, and his friend plunges into the freezing depths, calling out in terror.
Despite desperate attempts to rescue him, the freezing water numbs the narrator’s hands, rendering his efforts futile. When rescuers arrive, they recover the lifeless body, unable to revive him. In the final stanza, the narrator stands at the graveyard, reflecting on the painful reality that he and his friend are now "apart by the coldest ice."