Soft Morning Light for Wanda
J. Marshall Jenkins
No matter how strident the march of darkness
as my good angels scatter and deny
knowing my name, your soft morning light
prevails after predawn darkness, sometimes
playfully, sometimes ever so quietly.
It is hard to believe in belonging
until your face melts my thoughts away.
Then eye-to-eye, if only for an instant,
loneliness lifts like fog burned by sunbeams
panning the landscape, uncovering obscured
beauty, warming and welcoming us both.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted (Mt 5:4).