The Dawn

I know this is a few days late; but, one’s first full week in one’s new abode, the celebration of one’s husband’s birthday, and the visit of an old friend to aid in said celebration are all, separately, events meriting a certain break in routine. Taken all together, they constitute a veritable mandate for a holiday.

Yet, even in the holiday-ing, I was not idle.

One final poem made it into the poetry collection before my husband’s editing eye could finish its first sweep-thru; as ’tis the answer to a poem I included in the penultimate post of the “How I Became R. A. Nelson” blog series, I thought it only fitting to share it with you here.

The first poem came from one of the darkest and hardest seasons of my life thus far. I felt trapped in a gateway that seemed to have no ending, and the litany of unanswered questions screaming in my soul poured themselves into this relentless, desolate rhyme. Originally, it had no title. Only later, when I looked back and realized that light had begun to break through mere hours after writing it, did I pen the name “The Dark Before Dawn”.

The season that followed was – predictably – yet another gateway, even more bewildering than the former, but not quite so long. Months later – this past week, in fact – I realized with a start that I have come through indeed: the sun has risen, and though it illuminates only a few steps ahead, I feel wider vistas opening up around me. My heart is learning to take deep breaths and step forward, leaning into the borderland with new freedom and renewed hope.

The insufficient thanksgivings bubbling up in my soul tentatively formed themselves into the second poem, which I decided could only be called “The Dawn”.

Not every question is answered.

But, isn’t that what makes it an adventure?

All the words have been said
But I’ve more left to say
Joyful tears have been shed
Still I weep as I pray
With our faith sealed in lead
At the rise of the day
All our doubts put to bed
And more thanks still to pay
Dare I trust we’ll be fed
If surrendered we stay?
That disease has been bled
So our fears we may slay?
As true Vision shames dread
And delight breaks through grey
Glimpse the morning ahead
On this in-between way