In the Dark of Morning

Then there are those mornings when the alarm drags us out of the night while it is still dark. We huddle tight against each other to keep the cold at bay while we try to hang on to those scraps of dreams that somehow promised a life better than this. A life where I did not have to leave you, lying there, while I went out to look for the morning and to see what new ordeals it had brought with it.

It seems there were once times when our mornings were bright and sunny and we were woken by bird song and sunlight streaming in through breeze-blown curtains. Days that brought us mornings where anything seemed possible and the day would not twist us and torment us with its new hard cruelties.

It seems every day now starts in darkness and in cold, creating journeys for us where we seek the light and the warmth. We wake knowing that each new morning takes us deeper into the cold and dark of the winter that looms in the darker shadows like some dread heavy beast with freezing talons that grab and will not let go until we are frozen to the core.

These dark mornings, though, give us no option but to stumble through them, looking for some sort of light, looking to see if we can find some way through to the bright sunny day that we know ought to be there waiting for us, and be ours for the taking.