Arise

To feel stagnant
The overnight cup of water
The house with closed shutters
A sense of weariness  
Wetting life’s appetite like stale bread 
And dulling the eye of its glitter 

Like electricity lost
The whir of the fan stills 
The rotating washing machine mutes
And the light is now blackened 
The room gray
Stilled rumbling, absent golden hue 

Eyelids lead-heavy 
But light as a feather
Compared to the heart without hope 
The pounds of lament 
Knock everything low 
Even the thought that one might rise 

Does anyone else have this thumping between their ears?
Like a drum of death pursuing 
How will I hear when Hope comes to visit
Laid flat, under attack  
I’m afraid I’ll be unable 
To ask her to stay 

I didn’t expect the Visitor to come in a Word
Seen a thousand times but never before like this 
In neon script, soul-stamping 
A gold band on the finger, for keeps   
The drum’s abusive blow, a purr 
And space is made for a better beat 

Where I had no taste for Spring  
The Word cuts vents into my heart so precise 
That barren places are sprouting green
Desire unsought, now surging 
Hope sings to my frame laid low,
Arise.