COLD DAWN

I wake to a chill dawn
no longer who I was…
not knowing
what I will become.

The sun hesitates
below a horizon of
slate blue sky  — 
warmth withheld.

Daybreak rasps
an urgent whisper,
"Move —
to survive you must move."

But this frigid morn’s stark 
colorless landscape
leaves me immobile,
unable to trust  — 

to trust 
with sunrise comes life;
that I might become —
myself.

© 1997 Judy Anne