Saturday, 9 April 2016


I wrote this poem primarily remembering soldiers who died in the trenches during WWI, but it applies to anyone who is frightened or lost.
If I'm honest, I have felt true "terror" only twice in my life and wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Not ever.
If someone had read these words to me during those awful times, I like to think they might have helped, even a little.
I come to life as a flutter within your breast when all seems lost and darkness falls
And the beating of my tiny wings will sooth your gasping breath and falling tears
My presence is a herald of light in the blackest recess of your most dreaded fear
And I fill your tired heart with the hope that your greatest adventure awaits you yet
But I am that rarest thing and you must seek me out, I will not come to you unbidden
Sometime I will fail you but the memory of that does not endure
For I am the way home this awful night, come with me through the majesty of the stars into the arms of the morning
And while we walk together, hear my song and rejoice, hear my song and fight, hear my song and live


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