by Meg Judge
Do not tell me God is light
My God is dark
She slithers through the crevices
of night
and kisses pain with love
drenched in blackest ink
She creeps about
in alleyways
with burnt out lamps
to find the lost
and wrap them in
silence and delight
She hides under
creaking attic floorboards
singing haunting lullabies
to the forlorn and the forgotten
She tiptoes amidst
the almost corpses
of fading hope
and reaches out
with blood stained
hands of truth and agony
Do not tell me God is light
My God is dark
And She will find you
in every tormented night
until you can see
that it is you
who is the light
