Deliver me from this darkening plain,
As I walk with ragged steps toward the setting sun.
Pieces of the past now combine,
Hedging in paths of hope once open.
A guiding light do I need to breach each barrier,
But flames within gutter between gales of doubt.
I am torn between succumbing to the evening’s cold,
And setting myself ablaze with anger’s harsh light.
“Let me rest,” my body pleads,
But this defiant heart thrums on.
With hope pouring from between cracking insecurities,
I reach out for the dying light of day.
And as a poker thrust to stoke a leveling fire,
I set my hands ablaze with its light.
Upon a stone path I stumble,
Illuminating the growing brambles and thorns.
What was, sneers with knowing faces,
And I am quelled by memories I once had lost.
But my form quakes with the heat of a furnace,
So I touch the bonds which once were made.
Sparks rain down between grasping fingers,
Melting away each link to the past.
Darkness falls around me waiting to consume its prey,
But I cannot contain this searing understanding now reached,
What was, now is in the knowing stark light of truth.
My power comes from within as always it has,
and I know that deliverance has been found.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.