If the shadows of the morning press the air out of your
lungs,
Beloved,
Raise your arms and call it an embrace.
If it stops your heart to see the pair of shoes there by the
door,
Beloved,
Cross and flex your toes beneath the sheet.
See? They’re still there. You can fill those shoes.
If lists of doubts and losses line the space behind your eyes,
Beloved,
Open them, and hold your hands up high--
Those beautiful strong hands of yours that move without you
thinking;
Watch your fingers bending one by one.
You’re doing that, beloved. That’s you.
Daybreak isn’t always pretty.
Don’t pretend it is.
But mornings are for rising.
Rise, beloved.
