A poem || The Scalpel

-
The Scalpel

dark clouds cloak the sunrise

a black and blue bruise 

spread across the sky

shrouding us in night

but for


a crack above the horizon

     a knifelike slash of orange glow


maybe it’s the Maker

scalpel in hand

gently, but firmly

cutting through layers of

skin and personas

disillusions and grief

longing and loss

making way for light

to flood our souls

a transfusion of grace

a blood donation

life coursing through our veins

the mending of hearts

resurrection hope healing us

again at daybreak


-written January 31, 2024

____________

Unfortunately, I didn't take a photo of the sunrise the morning I wrote this poem, but I went back through my photos to try to find one to capture the idea. A simple search of "clouds" in my Photos Library pulled up many sweet memories. (For fun after you skim my photos, go type "cloud" into your photo library and see what lovely memories pop up!!) 

This first one below is a sunrise from my Nana's apartment on the 23rd floor. This is especially tender as I'll never be able to wrap my arms around her again or see the view from here as she passed away a few years ago. (Sorry mom- I know this one is making you cry- I love you!!!)

This next one is from the hospital window the day after Trace was born. I wouldn't have been able to tell you before looking back through my photos that there was a beautiful sunrise that morning. How lovely to be reminded.


The following don't have that "knife-like slash," but I couldn't resist. They are too beautiful. 











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