The Inspiration

The Inspiration

9.06.2010

Circling: Under the Yellow Sun

       I.

       For years
       under the black shroud of night,
       I have been alone
       with my own voice
       echoing through the chambers
       of my brain.
       Night after night
       I cling to wakefulness,
       do all that I can
       to avoid the hulking monsters
       of my dreams.


       II.
       For years
       in the warm yellow light of day,
       my eyes closed,
       I’ve been dozing,
       comforted by the blanket
       of familiar noises:
       my husband cooking
       and folding clothes,
       my daughters
       circling and circling around me
       in hopeful spirals.


       III.
       Sometimes I feel
       two girls’ eyes  
       peering into the place where I reside
       and the black birds of their sadness
       settle heavily
       as one great flock
       in my ribs.
       I choke on the grief.
    
       And so I fight 
       to share in their daylight,
       pin my lids open
       until I can see,  finally,
       the warm yellow sun
       spilling over
       their warm yellow hair,
       and for a while,
       the flock of birds
       lifts off my chest
       releasing me
       from its weight.


       IV.
       When they’re grown,
       I hope they don’t wander in a daze
       for too long,
       feeling alone and abandoned.
       I hope they know
       the electricity of the yellow sun,
       the safety and softness of night,
       and so I fight my way back
       through the tunnel
       of backward nights and days,
       to join them,
       to circle and circle in dizzy spirals,
       loving them so much
       under the yellow sun.

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