Bright

it has been too long grey
deep in your soul, too long
dark and unsafe, a place
where monsters lie waiting

for you to begin, just begin
to feel safe, before them climb
from under their rocks
to gnaw on your raw bones

and sip happily on the blood
of your grief, to leave you
weak and wounded, to
laugh at your insistence,

you determination
to fight back,
to kindle the fires of your soul,
barely remembered,

faint flickers that you refuse to surrender,
sure somehow you can fan them
into a roaring flame that will push back the dark
forever.

About this poem

“Life is tough. Then you die.” That’s the phrase you hear bandied about a lot. But I refuse to die. My motto. “Life is tough. Somehow, I will be tougher.”

The Somehow of course, it the catch. I rarely know how. I just know I don’t surrender well.

The painting is one I did last week.

Tom