Here’s to the one who greets the dawn
—not with dread, but with daring.
A smile or half smile perhaps is there too, on the face of the one who greets the dawn
—not with angst, but with anticipation.
There is also a strength, an intensity of gaze, that is in the eyes of the one who greets the dawn
—not with force, but with faith. Yet behind that intensity and within that strength is a softness, a tenderness, a sweetness . . .
There is movement, motion, vitality in the being of the one who greets the dawn
—not with pain (pain, pain, we will always have pain, but it becomes nothing at all to me, nothing, as I too greet the dawn), but with a kind of resolved stillness, a quietness, even if in motion.
There is beauty, a wonderful kind of beauty that only sleep can bring. It is unadorned, stark perhaps, and even more beautiful for all of that. It is bare, without pretense, secure and sacred, unafraid, almost content. It is all there, covering and flowing, within and without. It is part and parcel and particle.
Here’s to the one who greets such a dawn as this . . .
Image “Alive” © 2018 Timothy Waugh