"arisal" poems
At Dawn my mind is fuzzy and bleary.
Whenever I see the cold blue light
from the rising sun
I'm reminded of stories I've heard
of charges, raids, escapes and deaths
all happening or planned for this time.
How could such productivity occur at such
an early stage in the existence of a day?
It does feel like there is so much possibility in the air
unlike sunset;
which is better for reflection,
sunrise only sets a sleepy mind in motion.
I so rarely wake up this early and
more occasionally
I go to sleep this early...
but on those few and far between days
of early arisal
I feel reflective and ready, perhaps,
for a plunder, sneak attack, or beheading--
but only after breakfast.
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 12:55 PM UTC
Upon arrival my thoughts painted a patina
Full of dark hues of crimson and ink
Creating a stark contrast between the living colors of a healthy mountain sky
Months of worry and loss perpetuated a sense of loneliness
Like a disease slowly unraveling the progress and success
Obtained after years of falling
You taught me how to stand...
How to love...
And how to forget...
Upon my first step into this wilderness,
Our home,
A rush of lost emotion was found
And above me the sky roiled,
Screaming in protest,
As my thoughts of you merged with the quiet serenity of the neighboring peaks
To form a rolling tempest
Of our past and my present
The pain then crashed upon my soul
Sending myriad flashes of opposing memories
Incompatible with the reality of your absence
Through this colorful migraine
I found the courage to take another step,
One foot in front of the other,
Each alleviating your glare that had consumed my senses
With the last ray of light upon the horizon
I, like the sun, set down your image
So that upon my arisal
Fresh eyes can begin to see the sky
For its own inherent beauty
That for so long I had attributed to you
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 9:42 PM UTC