Conversing with Light

for Madame Lavender

I.

The glass had simply shattered. Rich
purple-transparent concave shards like giant
beetles at my feet. I thought how
dangerous beauty could be, how it was
meant to be taken in small doses
for fear it could cut the feet
or the throat on its way down.

And I had consumed much that day.
Everything was raw-edged and knife-kissed,
it was a stinging, questioning space
and it demanded that space,
it had a voice that could sing,
it was beautiful.

Because there you had went that day,
conversing with light and dancing with shadow.
You owned the movement of the leaves
in the trees and you flirted with color
as if you knew its whims by heart.
Nothing could escape your eye.

II.

Just days ago we'd rescued her from
the middle of the street, wet constellations
of crust in a pair of eyes that could barely open.

Now as I sweep away the ineffable, clinging
truth of jagged stones, she lies sprawled contentedly
in a chair. And I wonder if this was a tiny miracle
among miracles, that maybe for some minutes

we became God to the meek, and perhaps I could lead
my lost self to the light, miracles had proven themselves,
they were real and effortless as accidents.
In this way they were available to us,
in this way we were deserving of their glory.

And there were sharp curves in slices
of a purple paradise and I could see
with clarity how they would fit back together
and there was hope, all was right.

For that moment, it all fit.

III.

How I'd pulled so thoughtlessly
at the darkness of the cabinet,
my daughter's hands sure and lifting
a shivering body that fit between her palms.

And there you went that day, conversing with light
and dancing with shadow. You brought it all to me,
that which I have seen a thousand times
but have never seen before today.
The teal spire of a church juxtaposed
against pink-spreading blossoms and the shivering
blue of the sky that makes my mouth ache
with wonder and gratitude. Angels with weathered
faces cold and pebbled beneath my fingers,
the gentle twining of a mirror-like river
cradled between two pristine hands of snow.

And my heart aches from it as I sweep up shards
and choke on joy and redemption.
For today you went conversing with light
and dancing with shadow,
and nothing escaped your knowing eye.