STRAINING TO SEE
For the time of day, it is very dark.
Is that a cloud obscuring the light?
My hand disappears before me,
there is no light for my path.
Striking a match, a flash,
for the loss
Written for Joseph Harker’s Reverie Twelve: ephemeral. The other part of this prompt was to post this poem publicly somewhere — I will be back and update this post after I have done so.