10am

 

There was greater light

back then

 

despite the winter.

 

I remember those early days,

and walking back to my car

at 4am,

your apartment block a monastery.

The moon was full each night:

those six weeks were

the only weeks that ever happened to me.

 

There was never quite

that light

again.

The arrows blocked the sun

until I spent a month or more

in darkness.

These latter weeks: they happened to me too,

but not like the weeks of light and moon.

More like alarms at 4am,

then 5, then 6,

until once more I slept right through.

 

A year or two of dim went by.

 

The other days come back,

with scars,

with dreams at night

reminding of that light

that came and went.

 

Sometimes

I even sit and smile now,

 

and that light returns

somewhat

but from within.

 

But from the memories, too.

 

It’s hard to tell:

perhaps it won’t get quite as bright again.

But there was great light

once,

and I’m grateful now,

not sad,

about that all.