Isabel Borgers

At first, darkness.
then sun, brilliant, orange, warm sun—
pours up onto the mountain
floods through scattered pines

I catch some in cupped palms
as it washes over my face
eyes closed in wonder
I feel the warmth all through me

The orange I have caught
seems liquid in my hands
so I raise my hands to my lips
and, cautiously, sip

Light fills me
causing my thoughts to shine
the light purifies and reveals all—
yet I feel no shame, for I am forgiven

The radiance has since faded
but sometimes,
when the sun emerges
from behind the mountain
I remember, and feel renewed
once again.