When I was little I would crawl up
and across the backyard fence
until I reached that place of refuge
I’ve been chasing after since.
Lying blankets down upon the roof
above my father’s shed
after all the wasps had bedded down
and stilled their buzzing dread.
And I used to think the grandest show,
it danced above my head,
in the inky black before me-
my family tucked safe in their beds.
But now I see that rooftop was a stage,
and it was I
who was captivating all the breath
and grandeur of the sky.
The mountains strained their eyes
to see the outline of a girl
perched upon her rooftop harbor
with her blonde bob in a twirl.
And there my brother’s hand-me-downs,
all the scrapes upon my knees,
transformed from blemish into virtue
like an artist’s masterpiece.
All of this must have been the wonder
I felt filling up my breath
as I drank in all the stars
and felt my dreams pound in my chest.
And yet, these days I feel quite swallowed up,
like a pebble in the sea…
oh! how I long to feel that awe again-
The awe of You inside of me.