It surprised me, arrayed, as I was,
against the fierce and ragged monsters
of the night, prepared, as I wasn’t,
(despite my frenzied efforts)
to battle them to the death
I had resigned myself
to creeping failure,
to the dark and desolation
of the coldest hour.
Instead, I woke to morning peacefulness,
the early waking of birds
and the first, pre-color, entrance of the light
Still small voice, so clear, so clarifying,
saved me when I couldn’t save myself —
Bright light to everything,
even departing monsters,
showed me who and where and why I am,
And the sweet direction —
what I’d madly thrashed at in my waking hours —
remains, a shining beacon for my days.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 27, 2016
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