When I began to see the sun

Awaken fróm its dream of night,

I thought the river was my road,

I thought the day would set me free.

Bended knee, uncertain beating

Wings above me, swallows gliding,

Morning telling mé its secrets

At the break of broken day.

But then the sky begins to close the door

Again on mý surveillant schemes and dreams

As íf the colors gathered there before

Have now been locked away from senses.

Fabulous poetry lingers in memory’s citadel,

Harboring colorful vestiges metered to fathomless

Visions of narrative dawns from reality’s glorious

History, mystery, bright ambiguity stream.

The pink and blue and gold and grey

Infusing swirling clouds against

The distant realms of breaking day

Where light informs my vision’s sensing.

Where light disperses into waves

Upon whose crests my thoughts begin

To body surf above the graves

Of fathers, mothers, kindred wed, dead.

My brothers, sisters, friends, and neighbors sigh

To hear the news that’s waiting in the wings.

The clouds of doubt begin to shroud the sky.

Why, I cry, until the mermaid sings.

Distant sacred feelings

Burgeon after mourning,

Hallow music’s knowing,

Allowing falling.

Then I begin to see the sun begin

To heal the wounded world and make the sky

Unite with earth, untying knots of hate

With alert and loving fingers of the dawn.

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