Sky Poetry

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It is early.

I have been up all night battling the darkness,

holding the light for the lost,

for the temporarily blind,

for the ones in the shadows,

for the ones who fear the shadows.

For the ones who are shadows.

 

My light flickers

but I hold it steady.

 

The last few mornings have been drenched

in viscous fog, but today,

today the sun blooms before me,

a golden coin shimmering

just at the edge of the world,

spilling peach juice across a canvas

of opalescent blue.

It stops me in my tracks

and I stand, bleary, weary,

reverent.

I almost feel I should drop to my knees.

I want to run toward it,

grasp in my hands this astonishing light,

take it to my patients’ bedsides

and pour it into a candle holder.

But I know I will never reach it,

so I make a sharp left

and walk up the hill,

away from the blossoming brilliance

of a new day.

 

For me it is bedtime.

 

Now I am surprised to see the moon’s

pearl lustre slung low,

close by,

in a space of her own in this blanket of sky.

From my humble place on earth I can see

the chickenpox scars on her face –

still beautiful.

She is over-polished;

part of her perfect circle wiped clean away –

still whole.

I follow her up the hill to my home.

 

Fortune favours me this morning.

My own light is replenished.

 

~~ June Briar Kelsey

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