Tsega Demissie
Be ablaze even in the certain approach of dusk,
for on a hill we forged this beacon knowing
even in total darkness there is some light.
You with your delicate fingers laid down our winter coats,
I with calloused ones gathered the firewood, as we kindled a flame praying.
Be ablaze even in the certain approach of dusk.
By dawn our fire ceased to exist leaving ghostly illusions of what was.
Silently I approached you in angelic sleep, tracing your holy brow with my sinful hands, telling myself
even in total darkness there is some light.
So I left you, and walked to adjacent lands hoping to find stone and clay.
Then I could build a foundation on which our flame could burn brightly, reassured that it would
be ablaze even in the certain approach of dusk.
I wandered out in cloudy lights and the tones were dismal with sickly grays and pallid whites,
and for a moment in time I saw the utter truth of this land, but I remembered our prayer that
even in total darkness there is some light.
After journey I came upon our violet hill, carrying what little I had, but I did not feel your presence.
Desperately I glorified pagan gods forgetting your sweet hymns; they were apathetic, so I cried out:
Be ablaze even in the certain approach of dusk.
Weeping I approached our cliff staring into the sapphire eyes of redemption, its glare almost calming.
Raising my soul I prepared myself for assured damnation, forgetting
even in total darkness there is some light.
Unaware I inhaled familiar scents of soft evergreens and felt the feathery textures of your winter coat.
In revelation you came to me upon a cloud with ivory, and together we built this beacon, remembering to
be ablaze even in the certain approach of dusk, because
even in total darkness there is some light.
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