Darkness is simply an absence of light.
Everything is still here.
The bed with its hard corner
to be felt around.
The soft chair that takes all our weight.
The lounge and the kitchen,
the switch of the kettle.
The warmth of cup in hand.
Darkness is a blanket,
filled sometimes with false premonitions
and fears that need darkness to survive.
But light is like the lamp
that illuminates the circle where we sit
holding out for dawn.
That darkness has no prophetic gifting
is what the sun keeps saying
arriving as she does,
not a moment late,
wearing her golden robes,
casting her net of grace.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2021
Living Tree Poetry 