The Shouldering of Light

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Holly Grantham -Shouldering of Light3

Yesterday I woke to light that burned orange through the curtain
and birdsong that hung thick among the canopy
Dawn was pushing hard through dense fog
and the earth felt the strain
profoundly
and
exquisitely

In the stillness of that early morning
while wrapped in a dull loneliness
I recognized Her effort
How even the things we know to do
can feel impossible
How the shouldering of light
can be exhausting

I left my bed quietly
not wanting any other bodies to
follow me into the day
Not yet

Bare footed and crunchy
with sleep
I walked out the kitchen door and
into the damp grass
The air was close and pendulous
The sky like a magnified ember

I tried to remember the principles of
light and water and angles and time
As if I could somehow explain away
this richness
As if doing so would make it more significant

But something in me
gave way and
my loneliness half slipped from
my shoulder
It was then that
I first breathed deep
It was then that
I woke up

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail
Holly Grantham
Holly is a wife, very relaxed homeschooling mom of three boys, snapper of photos, coming of age writer and a soul drowning in grace. After years in Atlanta where she attended college, married the love of her life and lived in an intentional community, she found her way back to her home state of Missouri. She now lives in an antebellum stone house, raises chickens (sometimes) and pretends that she lives in the country.
Holly Grantham

Latest posts by Holly Grantham (see all)

Holly Grantham