Gray and mute.
There is no cadence in the wind,
As if numbed by the winter forest.
There is a stench of sorrow
Shrouding all safe exits.
Even the tide is holding its breath.
Then, a blossoming of light,
Soft violet and blush,
Splitting the ocean in a glittering trail
Of rose gold and silver.
The echoing cry of seabirds,
And feathers shivering
In the eddies of the wind.
As the sun is lifted
By foreign hands
Swell on the quiet land
And as that pregnant orb
Releases its burden
unto fields and sea
A murmur of prayerful
That life will never
Seize to be.
Slowly, open your sheltering petals
sing, softly into the ambering lake
let the mud fall, piece by piece
rise, gently, towards the morning sunrise
beyond the still waters and cloudless sea
Grow, wildly into the purpling meadows
and the burning heaven-bound hills
Breathe your Joy into the sunlit stars
and moon-blazing days
Be the grace that brought you here
Swim, with the angels of the sea
dance, with the awakening spring
Be, Breathe, Rise, softly
into the Morning Sunrise