EDITOR’S CHOICE AWARD: bringing our favorite previously-published poems back to the front page.
Submitted by Ali Grimshaw
Light does not fall on us equally.
There are hours of gentle illumination, while some remain in shadow.
Random flashes which leave you for no reason at the front of the line.
Or the end, randomly burned, scorched,
with head shaking disbelief. Tranquil dusk light on leaves.
Other days blinded into paralysis, unable to see a way forward.
I remain in a thundercloud waiting room, counting shadows like minutes.
Weatherizing my soul before the next hurricane.
Steadfast, determined in my stance, for a return of the glow
In stillness it will find me.
Sun’s warm hand on my back again.
This too shall pass
Photo credit: JMW Turner – Buttermere Lake
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
I really like the tone of this–like a gloomy day, sort of melancholy, but then there seems to be hope at the end–waiting for the light. There are cycles of darkness and light, good times and bad. . .
Weatherising what a beautiful word. Love the poem.