When darkness births a flame
“When day comes, we step out of the shade of flame and unafraid.
The new dawn balloons as we free it.
For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.“ – “The Hill We Climb” by Amanda Gorman
Daylight splashed sideways across the banner in my room. After weeks of steel-grey skies, the veil of clouds had dissolved into a brightness that nearly hurt the eyes. It was as if the Earth were responding to a new dawn of creation. The air clasped the trees in a spring-like embrace. It was late January, and yet it felt like an April morning.
The sloshing car tires speeding past my window gave off an audio cue of wet road and melting snow as the sun lifted higher, warming the asphalt to a lukewarm glow.
It didn’t feel familiar at all. As I walked about my spacious apartment, I listened closer to the rhythm of my circulating bloodstream. No, it wasn’t there; the pull of gravitation had been replaced with levitation. The weighty yoke had been removed from chest and limbs. The sense of wading through quicksand, the only motion a downward drag with little chance of progress forward, was now a quickening of sorts. Drowning became buoyancy. Death became life. Darkness birthed a flame.
Birdsong filtered merrily through my open window. From atop the lone tree in my neighbor’s yard, I witnessed pigeons gathering in a collegial love lock. The world seemed to exhale. Perhaps for the first time in years.
Yes, Amanda Gorman. You were right. We can move beyond the darkest of times, guided first by a flicker and then a blaze.
Welcome, light, my dear old friend. It is so very nice to see you again.