“The Sun Traverses the Sky”
by Eileen Kaeser
Kaleidoscopic light against a white, peeling wall,
Robust blues and greens shine.
The sun peeks through the clouds, but
I cannot see.
The air is still,
Reverent of the potent bleed
Of beams of light.
I can see my breath, puffs of cold air
From the outside seeping
Through the glass, filling the
Chamber, where I sit atop
My throne of frigid hardwood.
The sun traverses the sky.
A woman on her knees,
Shrouded in blue so deep,
Basquing in the sun that seeps
Through her, a portrait alight.
I cannot see
The sun begin to hide
Behind the clouds, but
Her eyes start to dim, radiance
Sucked from the room, warmth
Snuffed.
The light recedes.
The windows shake against the wind’s blast,
Yet she remains
Stuck in the same place,
Defender of a familiar faith – a cause
I’ve forgotten how to believe.
A stain glass bulwark against the world outside,
Trembling, shaking,
The wind whips at shards of broken glass.
Yet the windows still stand.
