A songbird sings into my ear,
“Awake thy soul to sing,”
Of morning light and ever near,
A sense of wondering.
What lies ahead? What lies ahead?
My heartbeat asks again,
As day awakens me from bed,
To walk out in the rain.
The mist hangs low and heavily,
Uniting sea and sky,
My heart leaps up and readily,
I yearn to learn to fly.
The eastern skies illuminate,
With lavenders and red,
The sleepy headlands as they wait,
The rising from the dead. 
By David Robinson, 2.28.11

1 thought on “RISING”

  1. Like this very much. My last sibling, my oldest brother, is lying in his hospice bed at home surrounded by different family members and old friends. We just visited today after not seeing Billy for a week. So fast the soul wishes to flee the body sometimes…He is 81 and has lived a good long life..he's ready to fly. 🙂 Your poem was just right!
    Thanks, Sue Bastiani

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