By Monica C. Voskamp
All she could see was the dark.
Everywhere she looked was masked
With thick oozing blood of black.
Nothing was as she wished it could be.
She pushed hard her hands against
The thick wall of pitch black dark
Her hands probed but felt nothing
Nothing but heavy air.
Disappointed by not deterred
She forced wide an opening hole
And called out loud just to find
Nothing there but silence bare.
She winced to push her body through
Her self made portal of eerie black.
She tapped the channel of inner pain
Her energy to guide the way.
She felt herself tumble then hurl
Free fall to an unseen realm below.
For years and years all she did was fall
Spiralling in loneliness and sorrow.
Finally she landed on a hard platform
The air was thick with her own pain.
Despair the only oxygen she gulped in
Hopelessness daily fed her veins.
Desperation and bitter fierce screams
She filled the chamber with agony tears.
She whispered a death mercy prayer
Nothing more left to give.
And that’s when her spirit felt,
A strange presence alert her mind,
“Don’t give up strong warrior
Hope is still found down here.”
She hung onto that breathe of life
With new energy flushing her veins.
She welcomed it’s warmth to penetrate
Feeling a strength vibrate her hands.
Her fingers unfolded beams of light
Their power crumbling layers of dark.
All she could see for light years ahead
Was her own beautiful stars.