The Light of Life
Sorting through papers on my over-burdened desk recently, I came across a poem I wrote. The wrinkled notebook paper indicates I had decided to toss it at some point, but obviously had second thoughts. The page is undated, but a crossed-out reference to “my 67-year-old” body tells me that I wrote it at least a year ago. Two minor word substitutions constituted the only other edits to the original draft, which I had titled, simply, “A Poem.”
Having re-read it several times, I toyed with additional modifications, as I honestly feel it’s not my best work. I decided, however, that it represents a snapshot of my feelings at that moment, somewhat like a page in a journal. And, I realized my feelings haven’t changed much since then – I just as easily could have written it yesterday. Thus, I left it as is:
Sometimes, the light of life seems so very dim,
And I sadly marvel at its dark misery.
The very air we breathe, pandemically tainted;
Political divisiveness deeper than I have ever known;
My body finding new ways to remind me of its age;
Social media being anything but;
The planet shuddering in its headlong slide towards demise.
And yet, there is light –
Tiny but unmistakable beams and flickers of light:
My grandson’s smile;
A favorite song heard unexpectedly;
Watching lovers embrace on the beach;
The morning’s smell of last night’s rain;
Art; music; writing.
The balance of darkness and light is nothing new –
It has marked the whole of humankind.
It is with the light that we find our way through the darkness.