You feel the darkness as an emptiness,
A claustrophobic enemy that closes in
To damage your perception of the world
As bright and hopeful, glistening
With prospects you would wish to win.
The dew-filled rose, refreshed from night
That closes light, and yet precurses day,
Unfurling sheds its tearful self. Its petals,
Frail, yet live enough to hold their shape;
Its beauty, transient, yet gay.
Beyond the light of life, the dark of you
Admits appeal; this open room reveals
The Darkness-Womb we nightly turn to,
Grants, if we but let Her, comfort; grants that we be healed.
D P Orman my blog (ormanslices.wordpress.com).