Half-Light

(Found here)

Waking to winter’s dawn,
room drained of color
except for neon numbers–
6:14– blinking on the bruise
of the bureau against a pale wall

while out the window
a world shrouded, everything,
all of it, wrapped in gauze:

like Lazarus, I think, when
Jesus, weeping, called him forth,
and he woke from death, blinded,
his body bound by strips of cloth
that, like a chrysalis dissolving,
fall away as he rises to stumble
through darkness, stunned,
not knowing where he’d been or
what comes next, until he merges
into sudden sun.

~Sarah Rossiter