Sky for Ceiling
after James Turrell
See the walls change
from white to thick yellow,
the colors naming themselves over
the slow and turning day.
In gathering places, go
and greet the light
from which you came.
Turn out streetlights—
we should not be so afraid
of each other that we wash
the sky of its milky way,
of its stories that created us.
Listen to the Hopi—
your life follows
the arcing sun from birth
to darkness.
Let go of the horizon.
Where you came from,
the aperture of your eye
is grounded by buildings.
Cross the Painted Desert, rise up
into the crater, one of the sites
of your conception. See yourself.
Open your arms.
Bring down the sky.
Karen Schubert lives with her daughter in Youngstown, Ohio, a former steeltown full of artists and healing land. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Fifth Wednesday, Zoland Poetry, Redations, Reconfigurations, and 42opus. She is this year’s poetry editor for Whiskey Island Magazine.
Featured Image provided by Pixabay.
