Autumn Days
When autumn days dim ever dark,
when misty morns press sky to earth,
when clouded nights consume the stars,
and hope a barely whispered word.
I rise as twilit shadows shift,
robed in frayed serenity,
coffee sipped with grateful grip —
and, cautious, pause in reverie.
Yesterday haunts regrets of yore.
Tomorrow taunts with fears untold.
Today, I hold what’s here before,
this moment kept against the cold.
This cup. This breath.
This taste of now.
The exhale of death.
The inhale of power.
Though fright of night creeps in to crush,
I expand beyond confine.
I am the dawn of surging sun.
I am hope. I am life.
Author’s Notes:
This draft of this poem came to me at the dining room table on a cold autumn morning as the sun’s rays and a hot cup of coffee brought hope to face the coming day. I’d been through difficult days of chronic illness with no significant hope of improvement on the horizon.
Though my soul felt heavy, I chose to be present in the moment, breathe in strength for the day, and visualize myself as the sun overtaking the darkness.