Paramount, NY, 9:34 A.M.

In the morning tiny bells go off
that alight a darkened path
Reluctant as pinpricks
dawn pierces sleep
with nimble fingers
I am unwoven
      the rich yoke of slumber
      unraveled thread by thread
until I am naked and glistening
standing before the newness
of another day
a tiny form birthed of white linen
and restless dreams

I am reading a book of poems by Jewel called a night without armor. I enjoyed the wording of her poem (above) and how well it painted a picture of arising.

i am not yet talking to my grief
but gently whispering so as not awaken it
from it's solemn slumbering world