Trauma heightens the intensity of all that lies hidden beneath our knowing. One of the gifts of recovering from trauma is waking up, even while painful and wrenching. As I awaken, over and over again, I repeatedly discover how deeply asleep I have been. Then that which has lain just out of my reach reveals anew a profound depth. It holds its own remarkable beauty and promise that I believe lives within each of us.
Some day the sun will rise to find that there’s a new light begun.
And as it grows, as day unveils, her tears may not be done.
But if you wait and bide your time then you will notice in the skies
The ribbon dance, the wide expanse of rainbows in her eyes.
They’re hidden in the tiny hollows waiting for a cloud to follow
Dashing cross the blue in running leaps
With a trail of crimson violet, wings just born that carry yet
The dreams that stirred when we lay fast asleep.
So when the darkest glove of night holds all the earth in her palm
And when the morning dove has lost its simple plaintive song
Remember still the quiet voice that summons ancient lullabies
The ones that never will forget the rainbows in our eyes.
They’re hidden in the tiny hollows waiting for a cloud to follow
Dashing cross the blue in running leaps
With a trail of crimson violet, wings just born that carry yet
The dreams that stirred when we lay fast asleep.