This Creeping Hope

there is nothing special
about a sunrise,

and yet…

this simple, natural, 
promised thing, somehow
manages to ring through
human bones as if 
it is the most
beautiful scene
our eyes might ever behold.

how many poems spurred, 
how many verses lush 
with lyrical colors &
wondrous metaphors &
divine inspiration?
all for this thing
that happens 
every.
single.
day.
for 
every.
single.
life.

until…

maybe that is the beauty?
maybe that is what spurs the stories,
this idea that whenever we witness
this creeping hope that
blinds if we look too close,
it could be the last 
one we’ll ever see…

i watched this morning
as night bended the knee to
the light rising behind the bridge,
casting sharp iron silhouettes
across gentle waves,
sunbeams danced over the ducks,
dappled the water.

as our sun bathed my face in 
warm cinder & bronze starfire,
i smiled like i haven’t 
in far too long a time,
because i think at last
i see,
this intricate, supernatural
unpromised thing, someday
will happen without me.

a day will come when i
no longer belong to these bones,
and so i should savor
this warmth, this joy
while there is still 

time yet…


YOUR PROMPT FOR THE DAY

Describe the last time you watched a sunrise, or perhaps a favorite time. Think about how you felt as you were warmed by its rays. If you’ve never seen a sunrise, free write about beginnings.

If you decide to share something for this prompt, be sure to tag it on social media with #CountdownToTheStars.


This post is the “Sunrise” entry in the Countdown to the Stars blog series. To learn more about the countdown and the book (coming Nov 2022) visit stillthestars.com.

Queery Letters is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Featured photos by Elayna Mae Darcy © 2022

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