Ah, when the heart is too deeply grieved
sometimes the light is too bright a thing.
The hurt animal seeks a dark habitat to
hide.
Perhaps its safety that is perceived
in the half light.
Perhaps it is the same as wearing black
in mourning,
in that once there was apportioned a time to
rightly grieve.
Now, even grief is a thing,
we must examine in the shade.
The light can’t be tarnished by a people
casting shadows.
Ah, but when the heart is deeply grieved,
light comes gently.
At, first a sliver through the curtains
left a chink or two open.
And then, once we can bear it,
a sun beam cast upon the floor.
When we see the light will only shine
where we can receive it,
we will trust the way
it can illuminate our path.
The light with tender knowing
will not show us much up front,
So that we might just see our way
to the turn in the road.
Yes, all the garish light bearers
have long missed the point.
The light dawns slowly,
as sun traversing the hill.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
January 2020