The Light Within
A poem about overcoming depression
There is a light within you that never goes out
Even when the darkness surrounds you and fills you with doubt
There is a light within you that shines through the night
Even when the sun is hidden and you can't see the light
There is a light within you that guides your way
Even when the road is rough and you feel like you've gone astray
There is a light within you that warms your soul
Even when the world is cold and you feel alone
There is a light within you that sparks your joy
Even when the sadness overwhelms you and you can't find any joy
There is a light within you that heals your pain
Even when the wounds are deep and you can't heal again
There is a light within you that is always there
Even when you think it's gone and you don't care
There is a light within you that loves you so
Even when you hate yourself and you don't know
There is a light within you that never goes out
So don't give up on yourself and don't give in to doubt
There is a light within you that shines through the night
So keep on fighting for yourself and keep on reaching for the light
About the Creator
Tameka Strong
I love the power of words. I love how they can make people feel, how they can transport you to another world, and how they can change perspectives on things. I hope that my writing can make a difference in the world.
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar2 days ago in Feast
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