Awakening

by Alethea Eason


You refuse to show a single petal of your rose of truth.
You have stayed until it is impossible to go.
You are blind to the world of gravity and atoms.
You don't see what is in front of your face.

How can your heart not break when the words
you need to speak, are buried and denied?
You are a solitary pebble most of the time.

Skip across the water before your momentum slows.

Open mouth.
Open eyes.

Pray on the ridge where you walk on unsteady feet.
Seek grace on the lips of friends.
Burn like the sun riding across the sky,
and become an azure thing with wings,

Become as real as bread fresh from the oven,
real as the butter spread on a slice freshly cut.
with channels in your arms where strange fish swim,
a river with no beginning, a storm rising
up winter slopes but never freezing.

Find the truer you
without the habit of putting on a face.
Create space. Be a mad person
with glitter and paint.

Gaze in the act of holy reverence.
You are God creating.
Close your eyes to a theater of color
imposed on a black screen,
the magic slate creating your awakening.


* * * * *

Alethea Eason's poetry has appeared in El Palacio, New Mexico Poetry Anthology, The
Ekphrastic Review, and the book Vision and Verse, published by the Redwood Writer's
Club. She has written four novels, Charlotte and the Demons being the latest. She lives
near a volcano with her husband, a dog and a cat.