Blue light. Dawn
wakes in the glass the man and child
and makes
of
the same glass
and light, bluestained
the flood the child is carried through.
Every day, every day I have the blues,
sings Lucifer, lightbringer,
father of the blues.
Christopher each dawn has the flood
and child to carry
through it, carry or lose.
And every day he drowns anew,
each day founders in the rush of blue.
What you carry, you learn the weight
of.
How can there be such weight in light?
What is the child made of?
Woken in the dark,
I heard Christopher singing the nevershould blues –
Never should have raised him up to my
heart.
Never should have carried him into the
water –
heard him singing the darkest blues
before light makes what it makes of us
–
I was the strongest thing on earth.
I could not carry him, who could he
save?
No one can save us from the water.
I tried to talk him back to saint
– You carried all the blues on earth
first on your back, then in your heart.
I held a child.
Held him as long as I could hold him,
carried him to the deepest part
and set him down.
I set him in the blues that we are made
of
where we drown.
Each dawn you pick him up again.
Patrick Daly