To New Worlds

Sunrise, Claude Monet, 1872

Expecting everything or nothing, I wait for life—
the pinch of not quite fitting into the space I’ve
been allotted. I welcome it, this wakening to new
sensations, to borders where just yesterday my
view approached the infinite. Shadows fall more
suddenly, light erupts ferociously, colors deepen,
fading sooner, brightening unannounced. I can
but observe, cannot control or shape or sculpt my
path, which from this aspect seems to narrow till
it vanishes—but no, it widens yet again and I am
given one more mile and more besides, perhaps.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t pray for amplitude but
contrast now.

Surprise me! Let dawn be as I have never seen it,
sunlight storming over the horizon, armies of
radiance bearing clarity and compassion. Give me
eyes to see the unaccustomed. May I scent the
cataracts that fall like needles from tall, stony,
terraced ledges. Turn my longings not toward the
beloved and familiar but to the astounding and
impossible. I would have both play and
contemplation, friendship and solitude, music and
cacophony. Numbness I abjure, preferring pain to
cold indifference, for in the wake of fear and
sadness follow joy and sweet salvation, streaming
on wings of angels, never ceasing in their dance.
Amen.

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