“I can’t face it,” you say.
I stand quiet, don’t want to wound you
when you’re already bleeding.
But your words are shards,
the barbed wire I’m clinging to
to keep from going under.
Because this pain, this sadness,
it’s so much better than the dark:
the eternal abyss where no light reaches.
So yes. You can’t take it.
But neither can I.
I’m happy here,
but those words bring out the darkness,
streaming out doors and bubbling up beneath my feet.
I will change that.
I’m going to build this world better.
So you can bear it,
so I can take it,
so we can love it.
I’ll make it so we won’t fear the dark;
because we’ll know,
it’s there to help us savour the dawn.