How’s your year going so far?
I’m here today with a free verse poem called “Light.” 💡
I’d love for you take a peek!
The selfishness. It scares me as I watch it display itself greedily. No one is noble.
The darkness. It blinds me. It closes in, crushing me. I am alone. Empty. Scared.
The anger comes, and the horror that I cannot control it.
The pain. It flashes through me like a knife of fire, and I cry out. Bitterly, I feel it come, and it terrifies me.
“Why?” I scream out, as the tears roll down my cheeks.
There has to be more to life than living and dying and pain.
There has to be more.
I feel thirst for something I cannot quite grasp.
The dark shadows surround me and clutch at me and I cry out.
All around me is the reeking smell of gloom and darkness.
I’m tired of fear!
The shadows mock my weakness, and I twist away from them.
“You don’t matter,” they seem to taunt.
I turn to run, away from the darkness. Away from the misery.
The shadows seem to snicker.
My eyes dart wildly around.
Everywhere I turn there are shadows and darkness.
A distant stream of light is the only thing visible.
A stream of light.
Rapidly, I turn toward it and bolt, feeling the shadows behind me, pulling me.
My legs are weak, but I push on, toward the distant light. Toward freedom.
It is beautiful, and my body pulses with hope and longing.
Finally, I am nearing it. I slow to a stop and reach out.
The light is coming through a hole in the cavern above me.
It is luminous and gentle and welcoming.
I reach for it, straining my arms. Wishing with all my might to get up. To get out.
But the light is much higher than I can reach, and I stop.
I begin to climb the walls of the cave, desperate now.
My fingers grip the rock, but do not hold.
I am not strong enough to reach the light.
I fall back to the ground, every muscle aching. Hurting.
The shadows have come again, and are pulling me away from the light.
I want with all of my heart to reach this light that I have found and escape the darkness. But I can’t.
I turn to the shadows, screaming and fighting.
“Get away! I want nothing to do with you!”
For the moment, they are gone.
I sink to the ground and sob, my body heaving dryly.
Then I am still, too despairing and weak to move.
I close my eyes in defeat and lie there, my breath rasping in the silence.
Everything becomes vague as I listen only to the sound of my heart thudding wildly.
I feel the light on my face grow stronger.
Wearily, I open my eyes.
I look around.
I can see myself in the light, now.
I catch my breath in shame.
I am filthy. Covered in wretched muck and dirt.
Humiliated, I begin to sink back down into despondency.
The light continues to intensify, and I sit up suddenly.
There, in the darkness, is a ladder.
I hadn’t seen it before.
I get up hastily and run to it, measuring with my eyes to see if it will reach the top.
I drag it to the light and lean it carefully against the rocky wall.
In the light, I notice something staining the ladder.
Slowly, I lean forward and study it.
It is blood.
The entire ladder is washed in it.
It seems to me that the ladder is made up of it.
I hear a noise and start.
The shadows are lurking nearby.
Unwaveringly, with a strength not my own, I put my hand on the rung of the ladder and feel myself going slowly up.
The blood is on my hands, but I don’t mind.
As I climb, I feel a peculiar feeling in my chest.
Not one of anger or bitterness, but of something else.
A feeling that I’m coming home.
That I’m loved.
Presently, I look down.
I am so far up that I can no longer see the shadows.
The light is brilliant, now.
I throw my head back and feel its warmth.
I have only one last rung to go.
As I look down, I see something strange.
Where the blood was, I am no longer dirty.
The grime and filth are gone.
Astounded, I smear it on my wrists. The filth washes off.
My heart beat quickens. I fill my hands with the blood and let it run through my fingers, spilling it over my entire being. Where it touches me, I feel a tingling sensation. Yet I am unafraid. It is good and pure, whatever it is.
Again, the mud and shame are rinsed away.
Whose blood is this, that it takes away the dirt and the guilt and leaves me clean?
I look up again and see the light beckoning.
For some reason, I have a strange and wonderful feeling.
A feeling that I am about to find out.
Without another look back, I clamber into the light.
Until next week,