I sit at the edge of dawn prodding
C’mon, c’mon. Let there be light.
The sky through my kitchen window
is blue-black, like a blood blister,
like yesterday’s sun got pinched
in the doorway of dusk and then all
went dark. So, might as well sleep.
But now the blister is draining, clearing.
C’mon, c’mon. Light be there let.
(I switch the order of words, just in case)
But I have learned I cannot hasten the dawn.
Try as I might I can only watch and pray.
I have learned the watching is praying.
Dawn is always an answered prayer, a
rough and honest reminder that you can sit at
the edge of God and prod C’mon, c’mon.
And God hears, and says it so.