Light the Dark

Face the Sun. Be the Hope.

Visions play in her eyes,

A poignant cinema of her own life.

She dances in the past,

Praying history doesn’t last.

Targeted violence reincarnated,

Haunting cries with serrated edges.

Agony rains.

Shadows stain the walls of memory.

A crow lands on the edge of her window, silent but knowing. Its black feathers absorb the light, yet its eyes glimmer with an understanding she cannot name. It tilts its head, curious, patient, a witness to her storms.

His glance lands upon me, a crazed gaze,

A question burning:

Is she insane?

Lost in space, waiting in vain.

Shutters close on her eyes

Before an image she despises.

Scars illustrate a fate

That she’s finally ready to realize.

Another crow descends from the twilight sky, wings slicing through the dusk. It circles, calling softly, like a bell tolling for remembrance. Each caw reminds her: your pain is real, but it is not all that you are.

She lives in the darkness.

She is the light.

Dance with the stars.

Glow in the night.

She lives amongst the constellations,

A nebula falling like heaven’s consolation.

From the shadowed branches, crows gather. One steps forward, ruffling feathers in the cool night air. It perches boldly, meeting her gaze. Its presence whispers: courage. Watch. Learn. Transform. Each feather a lesson in resilience, each shadow a map of strength.

Her heartbeat aligns with the universe,

A rhythm pulsing through the cosmos.

Every scar, every cry,

A note in her symphony of survival.

The crows watch, always watch,

As if carrying the memory of her pain

And the promise of her flight.

She lifts her arms toward the moon,

Breathing the night into her lungs,

Exhaling fear, releasing sorrow.

She is not bound by yesterday.

She is starlight. She is wind.

She is hope incarnate.

A final crow lifts from the forest floor, ascending, wings spread wide. It vanishes into the constellation-strewn sky, a reminder: light the dark. Face the sun. Be the hope. You, too, can rise.