Light – a poem by Cynthia Pitman

Light

From beyond, darkness looms.
Not seen but felt, its tentacles 
threaten to entwine me.
I spread my arms wide,
slide down the dew-dampened hill,
dive toward the horizon,
and crash into the hard sky.
I feel its cerulean blue
crack into pieces, each piece curled
like in a sunbaked lake bed.
My bones crushed,
I slide easily between the cracks
and glide into the dark universe
spotted with starlight.
I swallow the light of each bright star
until only I shine.
Now I, my Self, am made full 
with His Light.

Cynthia Pitman from Orlando, Florida is the author of three poetry collections: The White Room, Blood Orange, and Breathe (Aldrich Press, Kelsay Books). Her work has been published in Vita Brevis anthologies Pain and Renewal, Brought to Sight & Swept Away, Nothing Divine Dies, What is All This Sweet Work?, in journals Amethyst Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Third Wednesday (One Sentence Poem finalist), Saw Palm: Florida Literature and Art (Pushcart Prize fiction nominee), Red Fez (Story of the Week) and others.