3am
it’s 3am –
the dead of night.
my fears have grown
larger than life.
the trees are black
in the blackest night.
they pierce my heart
with shards of ice.
the shadows are long;
they pull me in.
my life seems over
before it begins.
the wolves are howling,
their voices raw.
they’re on my trail,
nose to the ground.
the water is calling;
it’s running aground.
its black depths surround me;
it wants me to drown.
when daylight comes,
they’re all my friends.
the light stops the stories
that swim in my head.
yes, me too ❤️
❤️
hauntingly beautiful.
if it weren’t so full of pain.
love you e.
It’s the 3am pain, which always passes. Everything seems so much worse at 3am. (I think I wondered once if I could convey what that feels like .. and then one day, this emerged.)
Thank you for sharing this, Elizabeth. It’s beautifully evocative. I love that no matter how dark and distorted the stories get, the shining light still has the power to reveal their friendly shapes and colors.
Glad to read that the pain, or the worst of it at least, is confined to the dead of the night, and that it passes once the light is back. Being able to remember that it always passes is so very helpful…
Much love and light to you, my dear.
“the shining light still has the power to reveal their friendly shapes and colors”
yes, yes, and yes.
xo