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,
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,
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 –
She is over-polished;
part of her perfect circle wiped clean away –
I follow her up the hill to my home.
Fortune favours me this morning.
My own light is replenished.
~~ June Briar Kelsey