Remembering every insult, every humiliation, each tiny wrongdoing
Turns her pillow over, fighting a wee-hour battle with her worthy opponent:
How squeezed she would feel, how terribly frightened
fearful, black thoughts sucking life right out of her
dumping it in the city sewers.
Flattened, shattered, gasping for a drop of life
still, as death.
But such forces as the one we know intimately
yields to no shadow master.
Sweeps in – no, that’s not its style,
It’s subtle, gentle, caring and kind.
It mends, heals, caresses, all in due course.
Reminds, ushers, helps and supports.
shows the splendor, the greenery, the unapologising
inherent force of life.
It works not in bursts, nor in spectacular shows.
It hums, breezes, vibrates and leads the way.
Step by step, breath by breath
until the force – life – fills every pore
Uncontainable, unstoppable, pulsating
roaring – if silence could speak –
if I pay for my aliveness with death
let it come.
Anna Elin Kristiansen is a reader, writer, mother and the universe masquerading as a human being. She makes sense of the world – and creates her own – through her own writing. In the evenings, she writes literary fiction, and when inspiration strikes, she writes poems about the experience of being alive. You can find her words at On Mama’s Mind and her Twitter.