RAISE THE SUN
What if the Sun wouldn’t rise unless you were watching?
What if all that light and heat reached all places seeking
your palms, hoping to find them upraised in welcome?
And what if the Sun, having found you attentive, having
found your open hands, could settle in and illuminate
one more day; what if you were what the Sun wanted?
And what if the light, as it fanned out toward you
and washed past you, what if that light relied
on your intention to animate form and vary color?
What if your love filled in shadow and polished
water’s dance to a sparkle? Would it always be an honor
to draw trees taller and encourage shadows,
to deepen ravines with the waving of your arms?
Could you run your hands along ridges
each morning, sharpening their shape?
What if all it took was you remembering to rise,
to go out and simply bear witness to the immanent,
to just for that moment attend to the bend of climbing light,
making it rise: would that be a privilege? Could you love
enough to warm the side of a planet; would the Sun find
you waiting each day, no matter what might come?