Before I married, my middle name was Dawn.
During my 20s, I spent a long time wondering what it meant to be named for the sunrise. I know my mom didn’t mean to ascribe deep symbolism into it, but here I was with the symbol all the same.
Recently, I’ve asked what will be asked of the Poets.
A post I’ve been meaning to write is this: What it means to be a bringer of hope. What it means to be named for the sunrise.
The starting point for this would have to be the day I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and by a trick of light and shadow what I’d seen was only the reflection of light gleaming in my own eyes. I wrote a poem that was born of that image.
One of my fellow questers, Nancy Seibel, is a bringer of hope in my life. She shares on her site what this means to her. She posts prompts and nudges to make her pack think of things that bring the home. To inspire us to share moments of beauty together, or tricks for resiliency. I think I need to read the book by Rebecca Solnit that she quotes. Because we bringers of hope must band together.
Bringers of Hope Gaze into the Darkness
I realized that if I were to be the sunrise, I would never see the light of day. I would always gaze into the darkness and keep hurtling toward it. I could bring light to everyone in my wake. But as for me, I’d be forever facing into the night.
This is something I see Nancy and Jeffrey and others in my pack doing. They are gazing into the darkness, unaware of the light they send behind them. Only needing, needing to know that there’s a light somewhere.
There is. It’s you.