Walking: A Writing Excerpt

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

The prison



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.

Relief–peace–rest–at last.



The tender breeze and blue blanket overhead whisper softly

Granting sleep–safety–love–a gift from God above.

Refreshed, renewed, Spirit restored

She stands.

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,



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