In the light.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: cat
In the light.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: cat
She was Ethera, and she came at the peak of the longest night, on the cusp of the broadening daylight.
She was Ethera. A human. A spirit. A soul. Sometimes one. Often all.
She’d lived among them, flesh and blood and hope and heartache. She’d hungered and shivered and grew and raised and danced and cried and plowed. There had been nothing in her that foretold what she’d become once she passed the veil to the realm of Nether. Where summer did not come and winter did not grip the land and where the prayers of people held substance, unlike bodies, which did not.
She was Ethera. Unseen by most. Perceived by some. Hoped for by many. Feared by almost everyone.
Feared though she’d rarely brought on harm that wasn’t already in the making. Feared though she heralded truth, which for a reason she hadn’t been able to fathom, so many fought against.
She passed like air. Like wind. Like the willow whispering a breeze into one’s ear come silent night.
She was Ethera. And she came bearing gifts: Of scented fields. Of sunlit glens. Of fruit blushing ripe atop the trees. Of roots awaiting the fattening of rain. Of undulating earthworms sliding through the layers of the dirt to aerate the unseen.
As she could, too, pass between the layers of being.
She was Ethera. Some thought her fog. Some thought her ghost. Some knew her as the mist that rose to hold the moments yet to come and the droplets of the feelings those would bring.
She came at the deepest hollow of the longest night, and in her palms she held a bowl of alms, collected by the people’s dreams to appease the frost and sing the morning in.
Till time alights
To set things right
May last year’s light
Fill this year’s nights.
There was light
In the cold.
I recall spring’s
Glow of soft
For the Lens-Artists challenge: Cold
In twilight we live.
In twilight we love.
In edges of morning
What we hoped
We could master
As we have
Let the sun
Roll itself into
Rise the moon
To the dreams
We sleep of.
After weeks of gray and thistles and ceaseless wind that scraped her raw, there was light.
She could scarcely believe it at first.
The cloud cover had been so complete for so long that she’d began wondering if there was even a real sun still behind it. The revolutions of soupy daylight and inky nights felt equally murky as every step became oppressive. She had waking dreams of being lost inside a massive warehouse, a mouse in a maze, endlessly seeking an exit yet seeing none.
She wondered whether there was still use in trying. She was oh so tired.
Now there was a break. The sky spawned a cavity and the leaden heavens began to dissipate. She could discern a layer of ease in the distance.
And light, streaming like caressing fingers ahead. Showing the way home.
Note: Dedicated to the all-too-many who are staggering through their personal wilderness, caught in the molasses of gloom, and thinking of giving up — keep on, hold on. There’s light ahead, and we’re leaving it on for you.
At the edge of the day
With the bay,
Light will dance
As it may
To invite you
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Radiant
From the abyss
Toward the sun
From way beneath
To where clouds are
“…There’s a special beauty to the world resuming definition. I always loved pre-dawn and the gradual emergence of the world from under wraps of darkness. A hesitant light followed by a glorious brush of sunrise obliterating the black with oranges and yellows so bright you must look away and blink, only to find morning had arrived.
I walked faster now that I could see more of the ground in front of me. Brambles and tangled roots were easier to avoid and step over when I didn’t need to test every step.
Sunrise in the forest felt gentler than the ones I’d sat through on my porch. Not so much a blinding line of light across the sky as it was a filtering of color working its way from the canopies above and down the foliage, branches, trunks and finally the ground. Tired and worried, I still found myself mesmerized by the wonder of it all. Goosebumps covered my arms not only from the morning chill but also from something that felt almost like a memory: pink sky chasing blue across the ceiling of the world, the dazzled dance of dust along the shafts of molten, golden light. It felt familiar. Maybe I had seen a forest-sunrise during my own life’s dawn. …”
(Excerpt from “Outlawed Hope”)
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Sunrise
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