Its funny where we find inspiration. Most of the time, while writing, I find it in music. I've got a number of stories I'm working on, and each as a "playlist." While working on one, and listening to the background soundtrack, I got this mental image of the sun rising over a rocky ridge. In the valley was a garden. Well… perhaps you should read it. If you want, listen to the song while you do.
Dawn
Adam Baumann
28 August 2013
(composed while listening to “Victory of Life” from Future World Music)
Dawn cascades over the Kidron’s ridge,
Preceding the sun’s daily arcing journey towards night.
The light bathes the valley in shadows
Before finally breaking over the face of the mountain.
In the valley beneath,
Two silent fishers dart,
Rushing through the last pools of shadow,
Expecting to find what they know to be there.
Hoping to find that nothing awaits them.
The first stops short,
Unable to continue past the stony barricade.
The other more boldly continues.
He stoops to see if the sight matches the words
That inspired an impossible hope in his very soul.
The bed lay bare just as they said,
Without a single shred of evidence
That the three-day-old ghost had ever been there.
Bewildered the fishers turn to leave,
Sure of nothing but the empty evidence.
Now dawn creeps up the walls of the House,
Glinting of the very pillars of faith
Where faith spoke aloud for all to hear.
But in the shadow of the sun
A simple sound is heard.
One of the messengers the fishers followed
Remains near the room
Where no one resides.
Distraught she loiters without purpose,
Except to add to the morning’s dew.
One of the few to have seen the pain
That was put to rest in that room,
Her tears speak not of hope but of despair,
For it is clear that someone had stolen
The once living hope:
The only son worthy of calling the dawn,
Who was laid low and cold
In a manger of rock and dust.
In the only room left.
As the dawn climbed higher
To light on the rooftops
Of the city that passed the sentence,
She stood without a sound
Except for the silent sobs
Of a broken heart and hope.
They were sure that they had found it:
The incredible promise of rescue
Given to their parents
Long ago in a lost paradise.
They had watched as the incredible happened
More times than could be numbered.
Nothing had stood in their way,
Not darkness nor storms nor illness.
They had been brave soldiers
Until that night when the light was captured,
And they scattered like glass
Shattering on stone.
Too afraid to believe in hope anymore.
The dawn finally breaks
As the golden orb make a final leap above the mountain.
But in the valley the shadow remains
Awaiting vanquish,
Though it does not wait long.
Abandoned by the fishers,
She collapses in anguish
Only to find a most unexpected comfort:
A pair of worn and scared feet.
Slowly but surely the shadows depart
Allowing light to ripple out
And envelop the garden.
The dawn embraces her
And invigorates her,
Like the breaking of a fever.
Unable to move she stares
At unshod feet so familiar
Yet so foreign with their piercings.
Finally she looks up,
To see dawn’s gentle reflection in the smile of Jesus.
