The bitter eclipse of circumstance

Each morning, as the world comes slowly back into focus, she re-

calibrates; striving to find a sense of purpose in the

life she is fighting bitterly to forge, brick-by-brick, arduous, often thankless work.

It will get better, she tells herself, when all the

pieces are lined up perfectly; when I find the

space again to open myself to wonder, a mesmerising sliver of light at the edges. A sense of

emptiness echoes inside her. It is dark, and she fumbles to place the next and the next and the next and the next and the next.