Certain mornings

I would be the only one

To see the first streams of it –

Light

Tumbling through stained glass

Smattering everything

Red gold rose blue.

The beauty almost frightening.

Yves Klein would daub his women

Blue

And hurl them at the canvas.

Living brushes

Haphazard and outrageous –

Same effect.

Different every day

This glittering cave

Big beautiful lit up thing.

It knew and knew

Why I had come.

Blue gold rose red

Falling like water

My river walk,

My morning prayer.

I would step into it slow

Circling the altar

Gold cross flickering

In the centre

Anchored, rooted, still.

As above, so below

Eyes closed

Filling my heart

With the warmth of it

Until my body was

Sunlight and roses

And the fear

Fell away in petals

Would you believe it

If I told you

Nothing felt separate.

Kerrie O’Brien is working on her first collection, Illuminate; kerrieobrien.com