Blackest Night

A poem about the beauty hidden in darkness.

Night is my blanket.
Caressing me as I dream.
Black is neither scolding
Nor judgmental.
It is kind, forgiving,
And everlasting.
I hide in the dark
With the loving creature.
The night consoles me
In my hours of suffocation.
The wounded wear only black,
The wounded live in black.
I too am part of the black,
Where the children of the night
Join in a graceful dance
Of beauty and sadness.