Last updated: 10 April 2003
Written by Heather Osland whilst on remand at Fairlea Women's Prison - 1995
| I was like a lighted candle
standing tall Having burnt away weakness, cracks of abuse, Of being neglected, violated by the passing of time I stood without newness, lacking shine - the strong wick But nevertheless I projected a strong enough light To show the way to those I held a special place in their hearts. All of a sudden without warning a strong gust of wind has come. It blows across and the beautiful soft light has suddenly disappeared. Once in light, now in darkness, everything is forsaken, Thrown into this alienated world of darkness, a sense of despair has arisen. A sense of survival resurfaces after days of loneliness - The feeling of being immobilised, abandoned, persecuted. When will there be a flicker, some resemblance of this old flame? Will this heart relight the flame? Or will it be stolen forever lost by constraint; Confined, or smothered. By not being able to reach above the captive structure: Or be melted down to meet the needs of others? When all feels lost, a beautiful hand reaches out With a voice of golden thread, a voice of hope. It speaks in words of love. There will be light, I will show you how. Don't despair! And the tears that fall will cease. Once more the candle will flicker. Gently arising up at first. Breathing in air to make a gentle light. Reaching out to show light for a second. Wondering this time will the wind be gone, Never to return. And the candle can once again burn brightly as never before Growing brighter and brighter, Helping others in their heart to find a way.
|
