Revive The Archive: “One Morning I Did Not Wake and Found Myself” by Matthew Davis

Revive the Archive is a weekly series that brings new eyes to previously published works. This week we look at “One Morning I Did Not Wake and Found Myself” by Matthew Davis. This piece was originally published in volume 7 of The York Review.

One morning I woke.
I wasn’t awake, but I stood.
The morning sun trying its best
to climb above the thunderstorm
that washed away night.
I strode down
the lightning lit hallway to the door,
I wasn’t awake but I went outside.
Took the humidity —
drank it. Feeling it fill my lungs.
Feeling the innocence of the morning.
Something was there;
thoughtlessly on the porch.
There was no wind and the sun
still shone only enough to see
the fog that blanketed my world,
everything around me. The storm
slowly making its way:
but with vengeance for time.
I sat there;
Not awake — still asleep.
I felt you here in your absence,
not missing your thoughts and smile.
The porch,
the water
in the air.
The fog;
The light that created it.
I heard it say everything I wanted to hear,
think everything
I wanted to say,
see everything
I wanted to feel.
Something is greater than love.
Familiarity —
so common to forget:
something encompassing and omniscient in life.
The fog rolling around each drop
of rain —
falling to its death.
Hearing the satisfaction of life it provided,
and then —
I knew myself for a moment.
That mystical figure that plagued
thoughts and dreams.
I knew what I wanted to become.
I knew what It all was as I stood
regretting the effect of time on the body.
I knew him and I was at peace.
I returned,
Still asleep,
To my room;
opened the window and slept
with her by my side.