Photo by DeAnna Atkinson
Remembering Hope
Each night after the shadows get long,
And before the darkness prevails,
The sun fills the sky one last time,
And seems to grow bigger and brighter,
Before falling off the edge again,
But now you can look straight into it
Without a squint, without shades,
And the wind feels cold on sweaty skin,
So the brightness is illusion, the size a lie,
But a good one because its beauty is
Enough to last through the darkness,
Like it was imprinted in our eyes;
We close our eyes, it’s still there, glowing.
No matter how cold it gets, no matter
How dark, we see the shadow negative
Of the sun coming slowly into focus
In the dark room of our remembering hope.
And before the darkness prevails,
The sun fills the sky one last time,
And seems to grow bigger and brighter,
Before falling off the edge again,
But now you can look straight into it
Without a squint, without shades,
And the wind feels cold on sweaty skin,
So the brightness is illusion, the size a lie,
But a good one because its beauty is
Enough to last through the darkness,
Like it was imprinted in our eyes;
We close our eyes, it’s still there, glowing.
No matter how cold it gets, no matter
How dark, we see the shadow negative
Of the sun coming slowly into focus
In the dark room of our remembering hope.
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