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Even Even in our darkest days There must have been a spark One that lay forgotten A tiny piece abandoned Of what we used to be Even when we were so low You couldn’t recognize us A tiny voice cried out Trembling yet rebelling Against a gruesome fate Even as we lost all hope Of living in the light It whispered “just surrender” With death our only other choice We did Even then we still thought We were lost to blackness So little did we know How miracles occur And we’d be saved |
Additional Notes:
One of my grateful poems. A dear friend read this
at the celebration of her 32nd year of sobriety.
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