A Light Dawns

Darren Schulz

The sun was falling in a constant stream of warmth
as tenderly as a sleeping potion on parted lips.
All she could remember was a hammock,

stretched between two enormous fingers
and rocked with an infinite patience;
then a calm feeling of being towered over,

as if by high trees, between which she felt raised up
and removed from sight; and finally a nothingness,
which in some incomprehensible way had a

tangible content: All these were transitory images
of suggestion and imagination in which
her longing had found solace. Truly, a light dawns,

spreading the longer it lasts. For what she once
imagined seemed to be in almost everything
that was standing around her, calm and enduring,

as often as she dispatched a glance to look.
What she imagined soundlessly entered the
world. But she was no longer alone: these were

the changes that distinguished fulfillment from
presentiment, and they were changes
in favor of earthly naturalness.

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The 2River View, 1_3 (Spring 1997)