Ride to Glory

Ride to Glory

Sarah Tate

Remember when you came out
red-eyed at midnight to stand in the silver
night, wanting the stillness to break
open into a revelation of light?
You’re not sure, never sure,
about the something greater
buried under the sand of being
like a crab, so you wait for the breathlessness
of a blown-open sky, angels flying
in their Old Testament robes.
Suddenly, a roiling infinity of space
in front of you, and you can finally
let the doubt out of your mouth like smoke.

You need the sky to pass from blue to molten gold—
a backdrop for you to ride to glory
like Elijah did, as the ground below bends
in the distance like an eternity.
You were you, living on roast chicken
and dark wine, but make way now!
You’ve seen the angels, as plain as flies,
so you no longer have to chew
on the dry bread of faith alone.

In the night, when no chariot swoops
down in a burst of dizzying red,
your eyes adjust to the dark,
and you move on, past what appears
in the light, sitting in front of you
like an old man on a weathered bench.
Rain in the garden. The white cloud of her hair.
A friend chopping onions. A handshake
between the sheen of city towers.
You, chasing after things you’re certain
to lose, unaware of the flaming horses
above your head, ready to knock
your mirrors to the floor and take you home.

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Sarah Tate
Writer & Poet

Sarah is a writer, a poet, and a life-long student of literature. She was born and raised in Virginia where she enjoys long walks, hiking, and contemplating things she doesn't understand. Her work can be found in Solum Journal, Amethyst Review, Unbroken, and elsewhere. 

Photography by Jan Kroon