The sun shone overhead in full glory.
But the man stood in the shade as life zoomed past him,
Unwilling to step out for fear of the heat that would burn his tender skin.
‘When evening comes’, he said, ‘I would ply my trade and spread my merchandise’.
Her name was light, yet, she hid in the shadows;
Held by demons named fear and unworthiness.
Her days were night, and her nights darker still.
When men asked why she hid, she pointed at the shadow only she could see.
Within she asked, when would I shine?
Then the storm descended,
Tearing apart all in its path.
The streets wept, and all men fled, ‘except these souls who stayed to be swept’.
But when the storm approached, it stilled.
For hope stepped out with outstretched tender arms.
She prodded and pushed, willing each to move.
Fiercely and tirelessly, she yanked the roots that tied them down.
And she whispered, her words echoing in the wind.
‘This isn’t your place dear ones’.
Light should not be stifled in the shadows, nor beauty hidden in the shade.
I see the fear in your hearts, but it’s illusion lasts only if you let it.
Oh man, you have strength to withstand the heat.
Dear woman, you are worthy of the glory within you.
Step out and free yourselves, for within you lies the power to do so.
The man stirred and shivered once.
He looked ahead, and without a backward glance,
Dragged his merchandise into the open street.
She shivered and a dash of light struck the soil at her feet.
She gasped and felt the hold of darkness slip away.
In excitement, she jumped and stretched her hands towards the street.
The shadow fled, the sound of her laugh chasing closely at its heels.
When men returned, they met a sight so glorious it outshone the sun.