THE AWAKENING

It was not sudden

the awakening from famine and fatigue

but rather a slow awareness

that bright faces

(miniature suns with yearning eyes)

peered into the windows

at the darkened room;

their gold glances piercing

laser lances spotlighting whorls

of dust and neglect

I felt familiar shapes

long slumped in repose

in shadowed places

emerge

assuming postures of new design

The desert room

no longer indistinct and gray

alight with the searching beams

began to flower:

dust-devils danced

in prismatic maze

I knew

(the wild surprise of it!)

that I had only to open the door

for they had come to remind me

that I, too, am one of

the golden children of the sun