Afraid of the Dark

Would the people have seen
the heavenly radiance
in broad daylight,
or was it the darkness
that gave them sight?

Was it a time of sorrow
that caused them
to view their lives differently,
did a loss give them an insight
they’d otherwise have missed?

If life is all sunshine,
lollipops, and roses,
the exquisite
is not delightful,
merely commonplace;

nothing is awe-inspiring
if everything
is perfect,
flawless
and ideal;

we cannot see the stars
except when night falls
and there can be no rainbow
until the dark storm clouds
have sent down rain.

Yet we live in abject terror
frightened by sadness,
unwilling to confront loss and defeat,
afraid of the dark unknown,
afraid of of our own shadows.

Like children who cannot sleep
unless the lights are on,
we surround ourselves
with neon signs
and glowing screens;

we fill our minds
with empty amusements,
distracting our thoughts
from the monster under the bed,
the elephant in the room —

but it is impossible to ignore
the obvious:
into each life
some darkness
must fall.

Perhaps
if only we had the faith
to believe in God’s Presence
in our midst —
wherever our midst may be —

perhaps
our eyes
would be opened;
perhaps we’d be given
night vision

and there
in the darkness,
even deep in the pit,
we, too, would see
a Great Light.

Perhaps
it is only
in our darkest night
that we can truly behold
the Never-Failing One.

And the light shined in the darkness,
but the darkness did not perceive it.
    ~ John 1:5