It’s in the shadows and the unknown
where courage blooms and fears are undone
A choice
To set our face like flint toward the tempest
Where winds howl and doubts dance
A spark
A passion
A reckoning within
I didn’t choose these murky depths
Where wounds are laid bare
A beacon for the night creatures to feast
The witching hour of the soul
Is restless
Relentless
What holds me here?
Or am I held?
I can’t run from what’s in me
What’s of me
Through me
Or for me
Yet inside the chaos and the swirling storm
Rests a calm and tender shoot
A delicious foreshadow
A promise
For “courage is not the towering oak that sees storms come and go;
it is the fragile blossom that opens in the snow.”*
* Quote from Alice Mackenzie Swaim

