When life has taken us in hand
and drawn us to the edge,
to stand upon abysmal grief;
when there is nothing left.

When heart has rendered mournfully,
when mind has splintered full,
when known is lost in chaos;
then we begin to heal.

To dredge the depths of nothing,
to wade through darkest dross,
to stumble on the dregs of hope;
then we have found our cross.

It’s when the nails of truth are felt,
as crucifying light,
that we can know the day is done;
that hope crawls into sight.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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