(An observation on the Mandela issue and collective grief)
Can a light be born?
It seems it merely becomes apparent
as we begin to notice, first its light (ness)
then its growth in power, illuminating
both ourselves and those around us.
Light can be dangerous too,
when we need a dark corner in which to hide
yet comforting when we need to shine.
Of course there are occluded days
when light is hidden from our view
and we feel that such a time must last forever,
then the clouds clear and once again it beams
a rainbow through the tears.
How old is light and can it shine for all time?
Perhaps it loses some intensity but gains a golden serenity
a face that makes us stand erect
and proud to feel its glow.
But light can die too
as all things born surely must
leaving us waiting for a new dawn.
© Graham Sherwood 12/2013
