Light in the Darkness

"And God said, "Let there be light."

“God said, ‘Let there be light;’

and I was born.”

 

I have said this for years,

not really thinking much about it,

certainly not thinking of myself as a light,

but saying it because

a sense of humor

has gotten me through some of the

toughest times in life.

Fake it until you make it.

 

When love becomes hate

and a mother becomes a monster

and a father burns the bridge too far,

collapsing under the weight of infidelity,

light naturally slips through the cracks,

at least that’s what Rumi says.

 

The family tree was burned and scarred,

branches scattered here and there

with no clasping in between.

Truth was choked out and hidden

behind walls of obfuscation

like ivy consuming an abandoned home.

 

Flowers grew through cracked pavement

reaching for the light,

often trampled under the weight

of heavy souls without direction

but soles steadily moving,

looking to hide behind

the jagged edges

of a mirror without reflection.

 

But I really was that light

in the darkness.

 

My mother used to be a light,

snuffed out by hands of abuse.

She never learned to shine again.

 

A son was born

and given away,

a whisper ~ ~ ~

Michael Christopher.

 

A second spark was lit -

vanquished,

stilled,

quiet -

a miscarriage,

a curse or a blessing.

You decide.

 

My father used to be a light,

vanquished by parents lost too soon

and a feeling of being unloved.

He never learned to shine again,

a rebel.

 

Both of them found each other

in the darkness

hoping for the light,

but neither stood a chance.

 

And I was born.

 

My sister was born.

 

My mother fell into the arms

of my father’s best friend.

They both fell into a bed of contrition,

and my father witnessed the fall

of ashes around him,

the ruin of his marriage.

Everything burned to the ground.

 

At twenty-three, he left,

immersed himself with night,

drove himself into the oblivion

of a tall tree,

the impact

snapping his neck.

 

My mother continued to lay

in the bed she had made.

 

A third daughter was born.

 

With each new soul,

the light seeped through.

The darkness hovered round.

 

I can’t speak for the other two,

but the darkness almost drowned me out.

 

I was a portal to promise,

light shining through the keyhole

of a dark door slammed shut

against the sight of a brighter tomorrow.

 

I shined,

determined to turn away from the dark.

 

I shine,

despite the cracks and flaws.

 

One day,

my light will burst through the cracks

completely.

 

My wings will press downward

and backward,

and I will soar higher and higher

until I burst through

the clouds

into the bright light of heaven

from which I came,

from which I return.

 

“God said, ‘Let there be light,’

and I was born.”

Author's Note

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

A most touching poem with your joyful birth then the hardships your family went through; you kept a strong, healthy and hopeful outlook regardless of all these tragedies. You should be commended. You are a light indeed, and hopefully you stay bright for all years to come.
Hang in there; we all have our stories.
I salute you for the courage it took to share.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Sami. It is what it is. I cannot undo what has been done. I can merely go forward into the future and hope for the best.

[Sami Khalil]

Wow! So true and well articulated. You are welcome

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

this is a really powerful poem other than saying that I am left speechless by the family tragedies you expressed in this poem

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you. Unfortunately, it's all true and a part of my journey.