Heavy

Hushed

Cimmerian, somber.

Even before the rooster wakes,

the earth is still

as if being blanketed

by expectation,

weighted with longing.

Soon it will rise,

but now

I am heavy with the hours–

anticipating

expecting

disappointment.

Do not speak to me

with words meant to cheer.

For now, what speaks

is the pregnant pause before dawn.

And just when the weight of it

threatens to crush me,

Rays being to filter

through the depths,

weak but

growing stronger–

suggesting to me

hope

and possibility.

~Deborah Linne