Behold the Dawn

... for my son, James


Behold the dawn

sheathed within soft mantle;

mountains wholly secreted,

overwhelmed by heavens

bearing days of snow

not yet fallen.

From where shall my hope come?

Mountains I knew so well

have vanished,

obscured memories

grasping for clarity.

Only one glimpse would suffice;

assurance

of their very being,

of their magnitude,

of significance,

of hope.

Yet they remain,

unmoved.

Must I see them

to know they are there?

Must I have answers

to know hope?

As I ponder

gazing expectantly,

longingly,

the mountains, my mountains,

are refreshed,

renewed,

restored,

gathering nourishment for strength to endure

an endless storehouse for all of life;

there will be spring again.

But for now…

In time, my eyes will see

my mountains again

in all their inexpressible beauty;

for misty uncertainty,

pursued by the sun,

has no foundation,

no grasp.

And so it is

with hope.

~ae

"I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; 

from where shall my help come?  

My help comes from the Lord, 

Who made heaven and earth... 

He Who keeps you will not slumber."  

                                             ~Psalm 121:1-3