When I began to see the sun Awaken fróm its dream of night, I thought the river was my road, I thought the day would set me free. Bended knee, uncertain beating Wings above me, swallows gliding, Morning telling mé its secrets At the break of broken day. But then the sky begins to close the door Again on mý surveillant schemes and dreams As íf the colors gathered there before Have now been locked away from senses. Fabulous poetry lingers in memory’s citadel, Harboring colorful vestiges metered to fathomless Visions of narrative dawns from reality’s glorious History, mystery, bright ambiguity stream. The pink and blue and gold and grey Infusing swirling clouds against The distant realms of breaking day Where light informs my vision’s sensing. Where light disperses into waves Upon whose crests my thoughts begin To body surf above the graves Of fathers, mothers, kindred wed, dead. My brothers, sisters, friends, and neighbors sigh To hear the news that’s waiting in the wings. The clouds of doubt begin to shroud the sky. Why, I cry, until the mermaid sings. Distant sacred feelings Burgeon after mourning, Hallow music’s knowing, Allowing falling. Then I begin to see the sun begin To heal the wounded world and make the sky Unite with earth, untying knots of hate With alert and loving fingers of the dawn.

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