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Garish Dawn (an amazing poem by Carrie Beyer)

Garish Dawn (an amazing poem by Carrie Beyer)

Last updated on: July 17, 2014 at 1:56 pm by Morgan Guyton

Garish Dawn (an amazing poem by Carrie Beyer) 2014-07-17T13:56:15-05:00 Morgan Guyton

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At the Festival for Faith and Writing two weekends ago, I went to a poetry open mic and heard an amazing poem called “Garish Dawn” by a woman named Carrie Beyer who has a website here that you should check out. One of the best things about the writers’ conference was my discovery of rich, deep Christian poetry. I got really cynical about poetry shortly after I graduated college and couldn’t get any of mine published in literary magazines. It all seemed like uber-pretentious, obscurantist drivel (if you don’t know what those words mean, it’s people writing crap that only a very small percentage of the population can understand). Anyway, this poem is awesome; It’s about Mary’s reaction to finding out she’s pregnant with Jesus. The one word I didn’t know was “garish,” which just means really bright and loud. There’s a lot of other Christian poetry that is way more thoughtful than trashy Christian pop lyrics but accessible and understandable at the same time. Please go to Carrie’s site and support her!Garish Dawn

If light were to slap me up

and I, unprepared, fell to my knees stunned

would that then be the end of me–killed

by light? In the extravagance of dawn,

with all its garish colors

screaming across the horizon,

who would have thought I could look

that in the eye and live?

Or that Mary, with God of the worlds

to conceive a child–who would have thought

she could be inhabited by infinity?

Let it be unto me,

living she speaks.

How can I live when the light kisses my skin,

tangible colliding with my ideological would be?

Nativity is a blood-soaked morning so bright

it pierces to my soul.

Let it be unto me.

Let it be unto even me?

How does one say yes to life?

I am an infant and the first-breath of life

will be harsh, with the light shooting out shards,

and there will be skeletal hands about me, and sudden sounds,

as I jar at every chill and pain. I will cry

for that dark, warm womb.

I am invited

into air. A mama

bending toward my face

smiles a thing I’ll call a smile,

as her milk drips into

my small, wet mouth.

Look, there is the dawn right now!

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