sometimes
a new dawn has already arrived
modestly and unheralded
while we were still sleeping,
while we were still warming our unmade beds,
the uncovered graves
of who we were just yesterday.
it arrived
quietly,
even as the first motions
of birdsong were passed,
to the undiscerning ears of the world
entrained to the bustle of traffic,
kettles boiling,
and the unwelcome stirrings
of the world’s early risers.
it arrived
even before
the jewel of the morning star
pinned as it is to the lingering train
of the veil of night
yielded to sunrise.
the promise of its arrival
made
even in the dead of night,
pregnant with silence,
in the infinite womb of darkness,
while the terrors
still held their pantomime of dominion
on the unordered stage of our imaginations.
and, all that was asked of us
as we slumbered through our restive dream,
was to believe the promise.
© 2022 Rocco Jarman
From the collection Keeper of the Flame.
