The days are beautiful
and then the night comes.
the creeping dark,
come the worries
and the sense of something Not Right.
Not just for her,
my small girl,
(and we have tried so much, to help, to fix, to heal, to lift the nightcloud that threatens sometimes to swallow her whole. Some nights are easier than others. I have to believe it will get better in time.)
I don't write so much about it here.
About the dark or the cloud or the load that comes creeping sometimes,
when I get overwhelmed.
When I don't know the answers.
When I am afraid.
When I feel like I've failed.
When I'm not sure I'm helping my kids, being a good parent, being a great homeschooler, being a fine and fearless Me.
I try to breathe, instead.
Wait for the light.
Keep it when it comes. Pin it to myself with butterfly brooches and pearl-ended pins.
the dark comes, I think, It won't always be like this.
I say it, and the dark shifts. I say it, and the dark can't stick. I say it, and the dark is just dark.
It is nothing
next to the light.