Faint Light

Dark.
Silent.
Waiting.
Accepting.

Unsure
of the timing and color, or even
if morning will come,

for there are days, weeks,
lifetimes when it has never arrived,
when darkness lived far beyond
it’s natural life span.

And you survived.

That is your mantra,
that you are old and your skin is tough
and your scars are worn proudly
like a Warriors’ jewels,
gaudy and horrible, terrible signs
of a strength you had no idea lived inside of you,

But now you know

and the knowing brings you peace,
And patience
to outwait the silence. The dark.
To will the light that once you believed was beyond the horizon
until you discovered
it lived within you,
waiting only for your call.

About this poem. 

Mostly I believe this. Sometimes I don’t feel it. But I choose to believe it anyway.

Tom