Fireflies

When the wounds of the day
And the sleep-debt of the week
Tap in to my bone-deep well of sadness,
Fierce anger ignites
Bringing momentary warmth and light
At the cost of a mouthful of ashes.

Afterwards, in the cooling dark, 
Rocking slowly back and forth,
I wrap myself in a thin blanket of regret
Mourning the delight life once brought me.

Finally, in the still quiet of my exhausted mind,
Words, unbidden but welcome, flicker into being,
Little fireflies of hope, dancing in the dark,
Dispelling gloom with evocations of happiness
And the promise that joy will rise with the sun.

©mike finn 2011