Rise

 

When the first instance of sun 

Glides up over the sea each morning, it is not coerced—

exactly—

But prefaced by a wash of colors 

only fit to announce her arrival and her departure. 

 

The ocean kindly calms itself for her, stifling its roaring undulations into 

barrels of glass

And when the time comes, the sun lends an invitation out to it,

Ever reaching to touch the sand

 

And tells it something maybe no one understands. 

 

Soundlessly she enters amidst the gentle noise of the world before her, for

she understands that she doesn’t need to make a sound to be known. 

Her light alone is enough to veil half the world in its embrace. 

It is enough to keep the world running the way it is meant to run. 

Without her, everything fails. 

 

If she ever considers staying tucked beneath the shelter of the horizon—

I wouldn’t know.

 

She has no choice but to rise.