Dawn Over Desolation



I’ve kept myself quiet for too long.

My mind was like a hushed autumn dawn,

With the loudest noise being a few leaves blown by the faintest wind,

scraping pavement.

As the sun rises, the leaves pick up more in groups now.

The sun spills over the horizon, its heat radiating upon the dew of the cool morning.

Nature has awoken from its timid sleep,

and so have I.


I used to be the sun itself,

not afraid to love, laugh,

say goodbyes,

brave endings, or radiate upon others.

I knew the day would wear on, nighttime would come,

but only to have a new day begin.

However, my soul went from the light of the fall day

to the sheepish dawn.

My carefree concept of time was frozen, forcibly turned back hours.

I did not arise from dead to alive, rags to riches, bottom to top.

Rather, I slowly laid myself down,

vertebrae by vertebrae.


No one noticed, for they remained in the sun, playing in the autumn day.

I retreated backward, into the shadows and brisk chill of the morning.

It was never night, for I was present physically,

but my being vanquished. Evaporated. Vaporized. Melted away.

Night would have been less painful,

for at least I would know there was nothing there that could have been.

Leaves could not pick up in numbers, the sun could not wash over the landscape.

Step by step, I walked backwards as the dark drew me in,

A smile stayed on my face entering the shadows.

No one could not stop, see me moving backward, coax me out of the darkness.

All because I would not let them.


The realm of dimness pulled me into its clutches, kept me in one gnarled arm chilling me,

The other hand stretched a smile on my face.

The one who tried to keep everyone around her warm would become frostbitten herself.

No. Not anymore.

It kept me asleep, fearful,

Drowned me in all the tears I cried myself,

Slapped me across the face, battered my body with each insecurity to leave its own bruise.

Dawn is still dark. There is no escaping that.

As I have awoken from my sleep, however, my mornings begin with a sliver of light.

Like a keyhole, a shape I never thought I could fit, a light still finds a way to shine through to the other side.


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