But the darkness
is too bright,
So I squint my
eyes,
And look for a
light.
They tell me to
hear,
But the silence
is too loud,
Though a mirror
shines at me,
The light is
going out.
They tell me to
feel,
But the rawness
is too dead,
There’s not much
space to think,
For thoughts
have filled my head.
They tell me to see,
But they do not tell
me how,
The moon though once
was bright,
The light is
going out.
They tell me to
move on,
From what, and
to where shall I go?
For the road
that will take me
Is but made of snow.
They tell me the
sun
At dawn will the
sky shroud,
But when the day
meets its end,
The light’s
still going out.
They tell me it
deludes—
The scar that
blinds my eyes,
There is but water
within
A frozen lake of
ice.
They tell me to
smile
When life’s sent
forth to sprout,
But smile as bright
I might
The light is
going out.
Copyrighted by Delilah Das
Copyrighted by Delilah Das