Matins by Alexandria Marrow

The stillness of the early morning;
as the sun timidly peers his golden face
upon the gray mist of night exhaling.
I sit and drink tea.
It is warm with milk and honey and tastes
like all the countries that once felt the touch of my shoes.

The quiet is a heavy chord of sound
being pulled across the bow of my ears.
If you listen closely, you can almost hear the angels.
I listen and feel the corners of myself bump into each other.
The love and discontent buried six feet
under my skin, fighting to break free.
It is too early in the day to tell which will come out victorious.
I make note to tend them both later
with ample compassion, and turn my attention
back to my morning prayers.
Say them with fast and accurate devotion.
The world is alive and moves little in this moment.
As am I; as I do.

The angels have stopped singing;
and a new sound rings clear.
It is the cry of my daughter, announcing
the start of each task lying in wait.
When I go to her, she is sitting up in her bassinet;
face broken with happiness at the sight of me.
Her little body reaching for mine.
I pick her up and hold her, feeling
the softness of her skin against me.
Memorizing love’s weight in the nest of my arms.
Years from now, when the urgency of its attention
has passed into shadows not so easily touched,
I will remember these physical measurements,
and know it was real.

All of this,
was real
and wonderful.

Currently working on a compilation of poems and short stories, Alexandria Marrow currently lives on a small TX homestead with her husband and three children. She has a deep love of travel, books, water, and blues music. For more on her work you can visit www.alexandriamarrow.com