Waking

This poem of mine appears in the current issue of descant.


Waking

When we reach the other end
and say “We’ve come so far,”
what’s left to decipher?

The winter morning rising
glows like the element in an oven,
dislodging our stiffened joints.

Is this a resurrection?
No, we were only sleeping,
at least I was, I believe.

What you dream will decide,
so I read myself to sleep.
The words convince my faith

my will is strong to believe.
The page of night replays the page of day.
The faith I shake shakes itself awake.