every now and then and you’ll find yourself in the dark
whether it’s a flicker or a long-term night
and you’ll wonder
how moments ago you tended the sea’s beacon
and today you’re fumbling for a switch
and you’ll think
that you ought to try to keep lighting the sea
even when your fuel is gone
and you’ll hide it and pretend
that it’s all okay
because if it weren’t for you
the sea would sink into inky black
but harsh and true
you’re not the only one with kerosene
or a spark
and someone else can ignite the way
and it’s a hard lesson sometimes
that to best help you need to accept it too
and worse yet
that light won’t always come
from the source you expected
by the hands you expected
at the time you expected
but darling it’s still light
despite the size
despite the carrier
despite the timing
and if you ignore the candle to wait for the lamp
it may not come
for some things start small
but the faintest flicker is enough
to glimpse the foot of the stairs
leading up to the beacon
and you’ll find your way
through the smallest of sparks
if you take the time to notice
and when you reach the top
because i know you will
and light the sea once more
and remember the tiny candle at the bottom
of the long staircase
the ships many miles away
you’ve been trying your life to reach
will no longer seem
quite so far off
inspired by a trip to Split Rock Lighthouse, MN.
Beautiful, Rae. Absolutely beautiful. Light light shines in the darkness. Always.