Tag Archives: dawn

MORNING DOVE

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Morning brings us mindless enterprise

until Brain sorts itself sorts itself out

and finds a side to lean on as

rational thoughts begin to unsteadily rise,

as do we, from beds draped in blankets

and dreams, soon lost in shallow mists.

uncertain what this new day will comprise.

We only awaken when the world makes sense again

and each moment of each hour of this day stops

being a devastatingly horrible October surprise.

Which may explain why so many refuse to awaken,

fearful of what the day may bring to their side.

Living in the dawn of denial and refusing to think

keeps nightmares hidden behind false pride.

Which may explain why so many fear being woke,

and despise those awake, yet steadier, than they are.

It is easier for some to remain in the dark ages,

unable to face each new day with hopeful anticipation.

The unstable on their feet, pushed around in misdirection,

bombarded steadily by false presentation on their way

to the kitchen from the bedroom to prepare for work,

which may or may not be securely theirs if AI has a say.

In darkness, they color outside the lines of common sense,

unable, and scarily unwilling, to follow a rational conversation;

or simply refuse to move an inch, holding on to the fence.

We all need a simple cup of coffee, for satisfaction.

We all need a moment, or two, of silent reflection.

We all need to accept our common imperfection.

We all need a personal course correction.

We all need to reassemble our sleepy thoughts

and start behaving as we ought.

We are stronger than we know.

We can stand on our own.

we can let fear go back to sleep

as we awaken on balanced feet

facing each new day.

That is no mean feat.

It was never meant to be.

We were made from and for love.

We are the morning, not the mourning, dove.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

SLEEP

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Bodies and words awake at 4 a.m.

have no respect for the woman I am.

A review of conscience 

is all well and good.

It reminds me of all that I should.

But, forgets who I am

and that I am doing 

all that I could,

and not doing 

all that I would

if I were not who I am.

Too tired, too little, too late, 

thoughts fly sky high

as life passes me by.

Two women sit here together,

the me and the I.

One who knows her self, 

a self which few surmise.

The other one who shares

her thoughts, to her surprise.

No rest this dark night.

Tomorrow comes with the light.

I sit in the darkness

and wait for the sun to rise.

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MORNINGS

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Is the first awakening any better than the last?

Or must we always yearn for what is past?

The sun breaks open the darkness we are closed within.

Even in darkness our light is never dimmed.

Must we compete, then with the light we face at dawn?

Must we shine brighter, hotter, higher, hour after hour

until exhaustion overtakes our effort to shine divine?

Finally, darkness comes to embrace us, calm us, take us

where we may dream of what will be, what was, what is.

Is the first awakening any better than the last?

Will the next awakening be even better than those past?

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THE OTHER DAWN

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There are two dawns.

The first is the illusion of light

the hovers just out of sight

below the horizon,

then seeps across the windowsill

just below the shades that are drawn

against the fearful dark of night.

This dawn is mere reflection

of a sun not yet arisen.

It fools a few to rise before time

and spend their first awakened breath

on false confusion.

The second dawn comes so fast

as sun above the earth does blast

light so fierce, so bright, so new

a second awakening begins anew.

Finally, the day has come on a run

beyond past horizons from dark despair

to fill our days with the light to see

a new day, a new way, a new clarity

where thoughts can follow truth more easily.

The sun is rising and darkness is gone

as patiently we wait for night to move on

and hide once again below the horizon.

This is the only the beginning of a new day.

We eagerly wait to see what it will bring;

what discoveries await newly opened eyes,

and which new vision will make hearts sing

as night fades from sight.

Then we can dance free from fear 

in dawn’s early light

to anthems songbirds only sing

once daylight has suffused 

every blade of grass and bead of water,

and we are no longer so confused.

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Filed under POETRY

DAWN

Dawn

The dawn!

The dawn!

How dare Sun

show his face.

I’ve learned to live

outside his grace,

to fend for myself,

to bend and scrape

a life beyond his space.

The ice has packed

my heart contained

in frozen lace

where it feels safe.

Now, Sun would melt

my dreams away. 

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