Filtering through the sludge of sleep
still heavy in my veins
the soft light of morning
its coolness the hope of a new day
I awaken slowly without skill.

I arrive at the sink
dare not look up
to see my puffy face
and the small brown islands,
discolorings of my decades.

Slowly almost as if they are
great rusty cranes
my arms move my hands
to turn the faucet knobs
and water appears
miraculous in its freshness
and begins to wash away the cells
that have died during the night.
From my calloused hands
stirring the sleepy cobwebs
it transmits to my mind
the day's first idea.

I wonder why it is
in the surely rested state of my body
a deep almost imperceptible
underground river of feeling
heavies my limbs
making each movement a decision.

I sit here now writing on the glass table
trying to see through the clouds
still gathered in my unconsciousness
the droppings of Wednesday's bad news
not dissipated by my seven hour sleep.

Disappointment, sadness, and fear
pour out of my pen
onto the gray lines of my journal.
I wonder in words
how God avoids despair
observing the carnage and meanness
of my species.

And then in the ink sliding
across the page with ease
I see mothers arising from their beds
before all the others in the house
preparing food for the children.
I see teachers teaching
and workers constructing
and children laughing.
I hear church bells ringing
and choirboys singing
and banjos strumming
and grandmas humming.
I hear poets' rhymes
and the silence of times
spent by friends listening,
and old men telling children
stories of adventures
real and imagined.

Do I hear God smiling
in the trillions of moments
that humans choose to love
and make peace in a day?

I chuckle to myself
at my myopic vision
the stupidity of my conclusions
born from TV and FM news
from the smaller regions
of our humanity.

08/03/2006

Posted on 08/03/2006
Copyright © 2025 Glenn Currier