I wouldn’t have posted this, except I checked the daily prompt (darkness) and it reminded me of it. I started this poem years ago while reflecting on what my worst fear would be: being alone. I hope you enjoyed the edited up, slightly more polished version!
How a heavy heart, stricken with the lonely dark, learns to walk again.
Broken and Tattered, strung up in chains
A head hung low in despair.
One being, alone.
Alone in a dark room, Waiting.
Alone in a cold room, Unfeeling.
Alone in that solitary room, Wishing
For someone to come.
One door–locked?–no window
Nothing to bring relief.
No one, no one enters
Not even to torment
this hidden one.
Endless waiting; Awaiting judgement Awaiting trial Awaiting death or life
or something in between.
The door opens, just a crack–but a sliver is enough.
Unworthy head, raised from its sorrows–turned toward the light.
Thinking always thinking
they’ll never be worthy of it.
Tired–so tired–weary beyond the soul.
Uncertain if they can hope. Should hope. Would hope.
But their gaze remains steady on the fragile beam of light,
And fire returns to their eyes.
Against the rattling chains they strain clinging to the faint light
Unwilling to let it leave.
Desperately fighting. Refusing to let go.
That wavering strand, sliver cracked hope, widens–spreads through the gloom,
Over the polished walls of a briar heart
A spiderweb of light, growing.
The walls shudder in desperate ploy to prolong their existence.
The prisoner shakes, impatient against the shivering binds.
A clash, a trembling, a burst of golden light
Light streams through broken walls of darkness–
The captive raises her face to face liberty at last.
Hesitant–shy–she tiptoes in upon the light.
It gleams, beckons, hurts betimes to behold.
How could this have lain outside, unknowing?
She shakes her head, closes her eyes and sinks
. down in sweet relief
Among soft petals gathered in a field of flowers.
The tender breeze and blue blanket overhead whisper softly
Granting sleep–safety–love–a gift from God above.
Refreshed, renewed, Spirit restored
Remnant chains rattle, perchance to remind her
What she once was mustn’t forget to help others.
And so she walks.
Hours, days, years
Miles passing by with God at her side.
Laughs & cries with God at her side.
Sorrow–joy–tears of relief. Not always happy but she always
For we walk by faith, not by sight. (2 Corinthians 5:7)
Thanks for reading,