Hope

My poetry often arises in response to where I feel I am spiritually and mentally (and ocassionally physically). Revisiting poems that I wrote years ago is always interesting; I am rarely in the same place, but sometimes aspects of what I wrote still resonate with me, and perhaps they may resonate with other people too. Either way, the poems stand as a reminder of the journey I am on and where I have come from.

This week I thought I would share a few of the poems that I wrote just over 20 years ago. At the time I was struggling with my mental health. These poems are part of my story.

The sun broke through the clouds today.
Cycling by an empty, muddy beach,
tide withdrawn, way out of reach,
a huge grey void,
echoed by the clouds above,
echoed by my heart.
And yet the sun broke through.
The sun itself was not visible,
but the light whispered its existence,
dared me to believe and breathe and be.
I looked and saw fragile rays falling,
shafts of light reaching down,
and maybe I, reaching out, could grab them
if they were not so far away.
I have seen hope come like that before,
a fragile ray that whispers the truth I cannot fully see.
I have danced in shafts of light,
childhood memories of beech woods in the autumn,
or spring.
Hopeful spring.
Shafts of light falling through the trees,
all quiet, just me and the dancing light.
I cannot dance right now,
I cannot touch the light,
but I can look and hope and dream.
And wait until the sun breaks through my clouds.