Nightlight (a poem)


cuckoo-clock

Darkness roils.

Chokes dams and infants

a force that appears to clog opportunity

Angry, hands tied to bi-polar swing

state of emergency alternates with somnolence

pendulum regular

Groups sway to a chaotic yet predictable rhythm

distracted by temptation

Pulled by illusion

And then, the syrup of night

which once manifested gigantic muscular hands crushing tendon and bone

surprisingly faded to weak

without the shadow of doubt or fear to feed it.

The child awoke from a nightmare.

Comfort of light painted relief from dark terror

The absence of light was nothing but spinning, stories spun from habit

and the passive creation of real life

The awakened child knows better.

Crayon in hand

She draws the world she wants to live in.

Smiles.

Comforted by her own power.

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