Midnight Blues

If you’ve tried your hand at writing poems, you’ll know that there is an urge that seizes you at times. A certain madness that emerges from the blue, to derail you. It keeps you from yourself, forcing you to surrender to the world of words, to become the vessel for a beautiful kind of magic. It comes to us when it is time. It creates havoc and from the chaos, gives birth to a shooting star. It then leaves. Far too soon.

This is a result of the self same madness, one autumn night.

Grace

Find me when I’m weakest
Curl up with me
Sing me a lullaby
Tell me that it’s part of the circle
The fear, the hurt, the loss
That a life without pain
Is a life not lived
That pain is a good reminder
That there are things worth fighting for

Find me when I lose myself
Hold my hand
Lead me out of the maze
Tell me that it’s okay to be human
That perfection is overrated
Tell me it’s not necessary to be infallible to be good
That there are cracks in everything to let in the light
That you believe in me.

Find me when I’m broken
Give me a hug
Make me a cup of tea
Tell me that it’s fine
Okay, to fail, to fall off the wagon
That failure doesn’t define me
That I choose who I am
Tell me that it’s never as bad as it looks
That failure is a bruise, not a tattoo.

Find me when I’m cold, bereft of colour
Hold me
Show me the light and the glitter
Tell me that summer is coming
That hoar frost cannot stay
That it’ll be alright
Sit by me and in the silence
Take me home
To myself
To you.