There was this magic morning a while back.
It began with herald clouds, singing of daybreaks that brighten.
And then the world spun gold and the sun shone gold and I breathed gold
And I remembered
Begotten not made
I forgot that I remembered that.
I so easily forget these shining moments, begging instead for more, as if I could live in a perpetual sunrise.
And tonight, when I am in need of remembrance, Mom smiles at me from a picture on Flora's dresser, and I see my arm around her, no space between us.
And I get up from sleeping girls, I finish the dishes, I read and weep.
I plug in my camera and put wood on the fire.
I contemplate silence, and breaking.
And there is the Light, and there again am I, and there is no space between us.