As I prepared this poem to post it really brought up some emotion for me. This was a huge turning point and now, almost 4 years after I wrote it, I realize how much I enjoy feeling the lightness I have discovered as a result of all the work I have done. Right now in my life I am working through a somewhat difficult, confusing situation, but I am doing so in a healthy, productive way that honors me - my feelings, my heart, my light.
Personal Solstice
Darkness, what is it?
The absence of light.
I thought that, felt that for so long.
When I fell to the depth of my personal darkness
I thought that I could not keep the light,
that it was for everyone else but me,
that the inner blackness was just too strong.
Some part of me knew the light was there
even in the darkest of times.
Always a keyhole of light
that let some warmth into
the cold reaches of my soul.
But I just didn’t feel I could keep my grip
on the shreds of light that presented themselves,
taunting me with glimpses of what could be.
That was my perception, my reality.
But over these past months I have found words,
have let my tears flow, have learned to trust,
have started to understand the pieces that are me.
Some of those pieces form my darkness,
but that darkness need not threaten me,
It is just a thing to be conceptualized and contemplated,
to learn and grow and teach from.
But it does not have to control or define me.
And, although it is big and dark and real,
it is backlit like a cloud with a silver lining.
And so what is darkness?
The promise of light.
For without it how would we know
the true beauty of shooting stars,
of a gibbous moon on a summer night,
of a campfire on a remote island,
of a flickering candle on a winter’s eve?
The colors of a sunset mean that darkness is near
but are also the colors of light.
And that setting sun
shows us the promise of a new day.
I believe my personal solstice has come.
I have faced my darkness,
understand its multiple facets
and now know that there is a light in me
that can shine through and light the way
to a future of possibilities.
Sarah Carlson
December 21, 2006
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