By Grace Jarrett Rawlence
Light comes at dawn
Light comes at dusk
But dawn always takes longer to come.
These long dark days
Spent sitting, waiting
For something to happen,
But no spark appears.
I always try to follow the light
Whenever it appears
But wherever I follow it to,
It leads back to here.
Hours, days, weeks months and years
Waiting for something to happen
My father used to speak of a thing called ‘hope’.
As if such a thing could exist here.
Although, in hours like these
Where I can actually see
The bright white moon,
Sometimes, not always, but sometimes
I can see a spark
A spark, that isn’t much I know
It isn’t perfect
But it’s a start
A possible start of something new.