Sometimes, sunrise is the last thing you need.

One truly courageous
And gentle man
With a voice to speak
And a heart
Worth butchering
Could turn this little world
On its funny little head
Or cause an earthquake
In just the right place
So that more is gained by the loss
And (though obviously no scientist)
I've seen enough of things
To wisely ignore the odds
And (though obviously no saint)
I know enough about the nature of cracks
Whether in bone or earth
To believe that graves can grow
Up, like roses
Like hungry, blooming mouths
Full of roots
For teeth
And the soft, nurturing flesh
Of all silent life
Yes, I know enough
To wait (still!)
For that One to appear,
Brave, and ready
Like the essence of possibility
A new Jesus or Gautama
Full of freshness
And not some dutiful, decrepit sage 
Old and abandoned
In some crisp hospital room
Far too tired now
For the weak trivia of redemption
Too tired even to wonder
Why nurses are always beautiful
And doctors never look twice