A Penlight in the Darkness
When I was very sick,
My mind had seized,
My heart was frozen,
My spirit had taken flight
Like a winged bird.
How would I survive?
How would I know the way?
I had dropped my penlight
In the deep, deep grass;
Or perhaps it had gone
Careening off the cliff
Just millimeters away.
In a fog I panicked
And just stopped.
Would I remain here forever?
Or misstep
And risk the abyss?
Gradually, I realized someone
Had picked up my penlight,
And its soft gleam
Still illuminated my feet
And the next step.
Emboldened, I stepped forward
And took courage to look ahead.
There a hazy form took shape
Who must hold the light.
We continued on,
And strength returned
With each step.
Gaining on the figure,
I hoped to say thanks
And retrieve my light.
Reaching out,
As I came abreast the humble form,
I made to grasp my light
And touched the outstretched hand
Handing the light off.
It was then
That the thanks died on my lips
When I saw
The ugly, ragged hole
In that hand,
And my penlight
Smeared with blood.
I expected the figure to leave
Now its job was done.
But on it strove,
Ever present,
Ever loving,
Ever vigilant
For trouble.
Somehow I knew
This Help had been there all along,
Watching, waiting
For me to acknowledge
I needed help.
By all that’s holy,
How had I never noticed
My Friend before?
AUTUMN
The familiar nip is in the air.
All nature seems to know
Autumn has arrived.
It is time for rest.
The maple out my window
Shamelessly begins to disrobe,
First swapping verdant green foliage
For fiery vermillion
Royal purple
Brilliant yellows and oranges.
She’ll wear the beauty
For a few weeks
Before dropping it carelessly
On the ground below.
I’m told the gorgeous hues
Are there all along,
Masked by the overpowering green of growth,
And brought out of hiding
When the sun stingily
Begins to take back its light
Earlier and earlier.
Autumn has come to visit my body, too.
The supple joints
The moist skin
The clear eyes and mind
Are fading
As my days also grow shorter.
Yet, all these years
Brilliant beauty
Has lain hidden
Within me, too --
Masked by the frenetic activity
Of youth,
Of growth.
What vibrant hues
Will be revealed in me
In this autumn of my life?
Hues to heal,
To please the soul,
To calm the spirit?
Let me be sure
To look for the beauty
That can come
Only with the dying of the light.
—Rebecca Barnes Hobbs
Originally published August 29, 2017