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The Dark Night

Margie Boehmer Avatar    Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled The Dark Night which was written by poet Margie Boehmer. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Dark Night

A sweet Little Worm crawls silently through the dirt.
Where has the light gone?  I have no worth.
Feeling dense and dark, the worm surrenders its life.
What’s the use of living when there is no light?

Coiled unto herself, Little Worm falls fast asleep.
Unwilling to feel the dung of this compost heap.
Surrendering to the dark night is the worm’s only thought.
Eyes closed to her world, allowing all thinking to stop.

Asleep in the black tunnel, Little Worm dreams of the light,
Rising sun soaks through her skin; the heating pad of delight.
Dreamtime expands into an unknown inner glow.
Fiery furnace melts the frozen core as her heartfire grows,

A safety net surrounds Little Worm like a web of security.
Encasing her now in a gentle comforter, woven of purity.
Spreading a delicate balance while dusk and dawn merge
Cocooning Little Worm as she sleeps, enabling fears to purge.

Little Worm awakens with alarm; something isn’t right?
I’m smothering in this security blanket, and I’m feeling fright.
Little Worm gives a strong kick to break free; it is a flap.
She pushes with all her might; a flutter falls quite flat.

Flap and flutter; flutter and flap; frantic movements all.
Still I’ll try and try until I’m free of this blanketed wall.
All the flaps and flutters create a crack in the shell.
Her lungs fill up with sweet, moist air; Ah, now all is well.

These flaps and flutters feel different; actually, quite strange.
Appendages like angel wings now provide a vast new range.
Relief saturates Little Worm like a sponge lying in sweet gentle rain,
As she arises from the clammy, wet compost heap without any pain.

Slowly, tentatively, Little Worm gazes into the ocean of blue above.
Excited flapping and fluttering soon lifts her from the muck
Soaring now into the dewy spring of a fresh blossoming birth,
Little Worm acknowledges the need for the dark night to occur.

Flying freely now with the emerging glow of true freedom’s ring,
Accepting this new power contained within surrendered feelings,
She’s enchanted with her new life, although she’s not sure who she is.
Surrendered suffering has created this new day of pure joy and bliss.

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