It is the darkness that makes the candle bright

It is the darkness that makes the candle bright.

If we didn't have the dark, how would we discern the bright? If we never had failure, how would we experience success? If we never knew loss, how would we learn appreciation?

At the End of the Day

Drawing the blinds
Turning down the bed
Cold soft sheets

Sitting on the edge
Swinging legs up
Feet under sheets

Pushing body under
Lifting bedding up
Head on pillow

Looking at the ceiling
Covering face with hands
Dark room now

Turning on left side
Hugging one pillow
Eyes are closed

Breathing evenly
Dreaming commences
Brain at play

Pockets of Sunshine

The world can be a beautiful place.  Maybe not everywhere at the same time but a pocket here and a pocket there joy and happiness are exploding from earth's surface to the heavens.

I eat dinner tonight and I have enough to be full.  I look outside and it is pouring, as is the norm in Florida summer afternoons, and I am inside and dry.

I have my dog sitting on my lap and I feel loved.  He is the best kisser, you know.  When I walk in the door after a long day at work I pick him up and he holds my face with his paws and covers me with kisses.  He bends his head down so that it rests in the crook of my neck.  I try to give him his fill of love back and release him back to the floor when he is ready.

There are pockets of happiness.  Sometimes they are very hard to find and we feel like it is impossible.  There are dark times.  There is always going to be a challenge in one form or another as long as I am alive.

What I need to do is live my life as if I am taking a walk in a forest knowing that at times in my journey the sun has trouble breaking through the tops of the trees but there will be pockets of it, some small and some large, that will warm me and provide light as I hike along.  I may get lost but I need to know I will still have a path whether it is well worn or I am making it as I go.

I also need to remind myself that it is OK to stop to rest.  It is OK to be sad sometimes.  What is not OK is to let the darkness in and take root.  I need to walk through it because somewhere up ahead is another pocket of sunshine.

It is you I still miss

Folding clothes from the dryer
On the bed with the dog
And his toy

Thinking about one and a half years ago.

Two and a half years ago was the start
I never wanted to part
My soul would tear in two
And bleed when not with you.

The dog walks on the clean shirt
I throw the toy, what a good boy.

Your arms were my nest
The place I found rest
From the outside world of noise.

Then the whole thing changed
Everything was rearranged
Dark gloom descended as
Light backed out the door.

I walked the halls
I bumped into walls
Feeling every misstep and mistake.

No longer willing
No longer able
I asked for your keys
Please put them on the table.

Folded clothes in drawers
Standing, staring at the dog
Bending down for his kiss
It is you I still miss.

Hope, not fear

Sometimes I feel like I am stuck in the middle of a tornado and the air is being sucked out of my lungs by the pressure of the whipping winds, my hair stinging my face.  Sometimes I feel like I am standing on a backwoods country road in the middle of a dark night walking blind feeling my way forward inch by inch not knowing what is ahead.  Sometimes I am under water, anchor tied to my ankle, looking up at the line between sea and air.

It is hope that keeps me going, not fear.  Hope is reaching into my front pants pocket, feeling for the coins gotten by learned lessons I sweated and wept tears to earn. The scar around my neck a badge of courage and proof I know how to fight.  I take out my sword of honor and hold it high as I will not be defeated.  My cloak is peace woven with strands of joy.  My crown is hope.  I will be brave through the wind and the night.