Waiting for Dawn

They call it the morning moon; that time of early morning where the sky is turning blue, but you can still see the moon. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but you know that it’s coming and it’s effects are driving away the night. It was this hour of morning that I wrote the poem Waiting for Dawn. If you take just the gerunds from the poem and list them out, they themselves tell a story:

Beginning
Disappearing
Blinking
Bursting
Becoming
Hovering
Blossoming

From beginning to blossoming there is a linear process happening to us as individuals and if you take Romans 8 seriously (as you should) it’s a process that the entire creation is longing for in an ultimate sense, when this temporary phase of life will be done away with, swallowed up in eternity. I still like to read this poem when I wake before the sun and I’m able to (weather permitting) enjoy a cup of coffee on my porch as the world is waking up.

Blossoming in this poem begins with a disappearance. The old-self must disappear before you can engage in the new mode of living that leads to the process of becoming that doesn’t end until we blossom into what it is that we shall one day be. I hope these thoughts help you to appreciate the scope of the poem, but also that you will have new eyes, able to see beyond the thorny sky that hovers over our coming transition.

Waiting for Dawn

I watched the sky’s new day
beginning, as the stars were
disappearing, but I know they’re
still out there; blinking, bursting
and becoming. Perhaps other things
exist beyond our rose-colored
vision of this thorny sky, hovering
over our transition into a blossoming,
blue dawn.