(This is kind of a combined ‘From The Vaults’ and ‘2016’ post; bear with me. Remember how last post I mentioned how criminally easy tritinas are to write? I didn’t always find them this way. So here are two tritinas on the same subject, written within a few weeks of each other, just to demonstrate how far I’ve come.)
Tritina of Dawnlight no. 1
I wonder why we call it dawn breaking;
As if the night were something the Sun splinters,
A thing ephemeral, untouchable, yet fragile, too.
Perhaps, as we drunkenly stumble home to
Our beds, it’s not the night that is breaking
At all; the air echoes and fractures into cold splinters
With what-might-have-been, could-have, would-have, were
The night a different place. We stumble home, the two
Of us together, appreciating the gold light as dawn breaks.
Dawn breaks; is the sky splintering? Or is it the tears in my eyes that make it look so fractured?
Tritina of Dawnlight no. 2
The sun rises; I watch as dawn breaks
And wonder why we call it that; as if night were a thing
That were tangible, physical. Something to
Throw against a wall in a fury, or to
Seize too quickly in a too-strong grip, and watch as it breaks
In your hands, the darkness, the starlight, splintering
Into pieces, the early morning sunlight weaving
Between the cracks. Slowly, wearily, we two
Make our way home, to bed, through dawn breaking.
Gold light fills the morning and breaks the fading night to pieces.