Behold by Kari King

Behold

The sky is on fire.
There are gold and hot pink clouds
set ablaze by the sinking sun
hovering above the snow-capped curve
of the mountain ridge like a corona
announcing the sovereignty of the range.
The underbellies of the clouds are
so bright it almost hurts to look at them
because you know this can’t last and
yet this is the very backdrop of
every wild happiness that ever
beat its wings in your heart until
you felt yourself rising from the earth.

You drag your eyes away with effort
and see the skirts of this luminous Helios
draped across the sky,
textured shades of grey and black
dotted with puffs of palest pink
the color of the most fragile rose petal.
In this dark and roiling sea with its floating
pink anemones there are several small windows
out of which pure blue pours through.
It feels like the sky is reaching down
through these blue arms of opening.
You turn up your face, back bent,
arms outstretched, so that if the sky
scoops you up, you will be ready to be lifted.

Behold.
From this moment on,
you regret nothing.

Links, posts, credits

For more poetry 🙂 see: 

• A Deep but Dazzling Darkness here> 
• Inversnaid here>
• The Summer Day. Audio here>
• sp/ns: simple please, not simplistic here>
• Think, are you thinking? here>
• Plan B: when I die here>
• Stuff me in a backpack: hike as far as you can here>
• Why I eat late here>

Photos by Festina Lentívaldi, (be) Benevolution. Reuse: Creative Commons BY-NC 3.0 US.