Strength

I watch the candle flicker,

Wind-bowed but hardy,

The bright orange melts and moulds,

Around the fingers of agitated air,

Intangible as the warmth they seek to displace,

From this place I call home.

Outside it is almost dark,

The last straggling strands of lit sky,

Framed against the spreading star-spangled cloak,

Holding out against an inevitable certainty,

Of a looming, pursuing end,

Accepting in the face of continued remembrance.

The wind howls discordant,

Piercing, wild and throaty,

Seeking a way in, it shudders against the walls,

Disconsolate, it retreats to try again,

I think with pity of childhood wolves,

And wait patiently for dawn’s rescue.

Eos approaches, bright and sure,

Repelling night’s black curtain,

The sounds are different now,

Shrill but sweet, drowning away,

The moaning complaints,

Of an unwilling but beaten element.

I have waited silently,

In what silence was afforded me,

Through the long hours of watchful patience,

The lone flame my sole comfort,

A flickering guardian against the shadows,

A warm, stalwart brightness.