Being a Lamp in the Darkness
After reading a fellow poet’s haunting work I prepared a response to the darkness that lights her world, and once lit my own.
I have lived in darkness,
wrapped up in the blanket of its truth, smothered
hope and shut out liars
who offer to light my way with burnt
out candles of philosophy. I thought that I had insulated
myself from darkness by embracing its truth. Nothing begets nothing–
we’re all dead anyway.
fear mastered my taste buds, and my
craving was bitterness.
I begged death to
swallow me whole and it did.
Soul crushing pain that I could
never quiteÂ medicate out of existence.
Death was my hope.
But there wasÂ a persistent, peskyÂ light
that didn’t care if I trusted. The warmth of its glow stayed constant
when others faded away.Â Like an inn at the end of a long
journey, it offered rest from
my aching confusion.
The lantern brought me from the woods
of my tangled shadows.
Secure in its source,
in its never changing nature
a humbleÂ truth never experienced in my boasting
darkness of doubt. It didn’t demand I believe, nor
did it exact the price of darkness.Â It paid in full every
debt I owed. This lightÂ didn’t scramble as I did,
to snuff out pain.Â It bore it. . . .willingly.
ItÂ hung inÂ the darkness for me.
I have never experienced such light.
A state of being, rather than doing, a love
Rather than playing hide-and-seek.
My soul caught fire as I warmed by the fire
of its glory,
I am aÂ light to youÂ in theÂ darkness
Inviting warmth and freedom to the darkest souls.