Untitled by Cynthia Jones
Even in the
midst of despair
There is Light
It surrounds the edges of darkness
What an eerie sight
It presses on the darkness
until it finds a chink
It creeps into the centre
until it finds a link
The pathway is never easy
Its cobbled and strewn with stones
we fall and trip and occasionally
we may break some bones
But mentally we struggle to find the easy road
when troubles that we carry become a heavy load.