• Madronna Holden

Swimming in the Lake of Light

Tie up my boat in the lake of light

I am going for a swim—

slipping into luminescence—

into the jade of morning so bright

it made the hands of the immortals

greasy with desire

until it slipped from their grasp

and fell to earth to become

the water of our lives.

So says a Chinese tale.

Icarus could have used some

of that begemmed water

to keep the wax of his wings

from melting as he flew

too close to the searing light

of the sun and so fell to earth

his own way.

Perhaps it is true, as a Czech tale

has it, that the sun daily exhausts

itself shining on our foolishness

and so needs to revive in the lap

of the dark mother of night.

(Perhaps even the sun

needs a chance to begin again.)

The sky must have been crowded

with all those comings and goings

as Raven shot heavenward

on his own mission to unbox the sun

and toss it up into the infinite night,

where it punched a hole

in the midnight fabric

of the possible—

so that we now open our eyes

on the light of morning

so intoxicating as to make

thieves of the gods.

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