from fires where families and lovers warm themselves,
assured of their immunity to ruin, hope the tireless undercurrent.
This dark night I bind myself to memory of the time before,
when pain and grief fit within my palm, and songs of sorrow
lay unsuspecting on my lips, light as a whisper of silk.
Here, where no shadows fall, I thrust my hands into the nightspace
and reach for a thread of grace, something like a prayer,
without betrayal or abandonment, just to feel the ground solid
and undeniable, breaking my fall in a gentle descent into truthwhere I face the weight of my solitude, and the audacity to be
alone with fear, to know where and where not to put my trust.