By Grace Jarrett Rawlence

Age: 13

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’.
Ridiculous idea!
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.


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