What She Said After She Stopped and Faced Things
Brandon Cook
I have feared the white opening of light, I don’t deny it
Feared it, perhaps, not as one dreads the night or the fright of a dark movie
But as one fears the morning that bright seeing brings
As one fears the first note of a symphony
And what getting started means
Like an animal trembling in a trap
I have moved with such speed
To avoid the reckoning stirring so endlessly inside of me,
Wishing to rise
Inviting me
But this I did not foresee:
A hand reaching out to hold me
Unburdening cords
On shoulders too long strapped with weight
So unexpected—to find love and grace
And I am like a fawn sprung from the trap
Running on awkward hooves, but growing stronger
Springing up and running on such joyous feet as mine
I find, at last, the ground beneath me
I did not know the dragon would release me if I but faced it
If I simply turned and stopped and spoke its name
Nor that autumn would embrace me, as once it did before the winter
Enfolding me with falling leaves
And burning smoke
And—better late than never—
The harvest
And October, in ochre, with its generous jubilee