Victory in Light

A slow thick head in the morning.
Not exactly dark. Not exactly light.
Even the demons are sluggish,
half-hearted, so much so they make you laugh.
At them. At yourself, Once giving so much creedance to
the past, the cracks in the walls and the glass,
at the cold air slipping in your warm home.

That’s Ok. There is warmth enough to go around.
Light the fire and let it roar. It starts slow,
a few flickers and no more, but feed it air and fuel
it becomes its own monster,
banishing dark. Banishing cold,
more cold than a few cracks bring in.

That’s the thing. You are broken, but only a little.
A few scars. Mostly healed. A skin made tough and ready
for the next sword. Patient in battle, knowing
victory always comes in light.

About this poem

About the morning. About my life. About the battles we all carry. About faith. About love. A lot for a modest little poem, but there you are. Poetry is never about one thing. (except love poems).

The photograph is of the firepit in my back yard.

Tom