Watch the sunrise, child, when there’s darkness in your soul

Watch this now.
You don’t expect what comes next.
You are all prepared for the pain of disappointment, child,
and what comes is not despair, you see,
but the bright room called day,
where you go to get dressed.
Look how the sun makes the dust sparkle!—it can make any
ordinary thing beautiful.
And you,
all teary-eyed and heartbroken as you are,
it’ll make a lily-wreathed halo about your head
and you can wear it forever, you know,
it’s the gift of daylight that drowns your fears.
But you just wait, child.
The best is coming.
Go to the window there, where the light comes all streaming and warm
and you just look out of it.
See how it opens up suddenly and unexpectedly?
Swift-feathered birds jubilate in the coming day,
and the clouds prepare their special symphony of dawn,
dressed like ladies in their pink and purple and golden gowns—
and don’t you know it’s all for you, child?
You don’t have to cry no more
for nostalgia and peaceful people—they sleep all quiet and restful,
because it’s been a long hard life for them.
Your life belongs to the sunrise,
to the bright room of day, child.
You belong to the ordinary days that,
when illuminated by sunlight,
sparkle like the dust in the air.
They belong to the night now, child.
Let them be at peace—you’ll sleep amongst them soon enough,
you’ll see.
Ah! what nights have preceded such glorious mornings, child!
You trust what I say to you, and be satisfied.
Look how the daylight makes things brighter—
what had been dark and solemn and sad, sad, so sad,
in the day becomes beautiful and soothing.
It’s still sad sometimes, certainly child.
Oh but more often than not, it’s just beautiful.
Like this morning.
And maybe you don’t believe me so much right now,
but you’ll see that what I tell you is true
because one morning you’ll wake up and see it
all thrust about the birds and the trees and windows
and in the dusty, bleary-eyed people coming out of their houses
to see the whole world open wide eyed and innocent—everything
turns innocent on mornings like these, child.
You watch and see.
Even now, as old as I am, child, I see the beauty in this morning.
Don’t cry no more for them who is at peace.
They’ll watch you and love you even so.
This morning is for them—and it’s for you.

                                    -Kaitlyn Medina                                   [5/29/08]


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