Grateful More for The Light at Night

A poem about being thankful we can fight the darkness

One Hundred Days of Gratitude. Eleven.

Oh if we could show our grandfathers crouching in caves and lean-tos, barefoot and bloody and alive and exactly as human as you.

Or their sons in barely dry huts hiding from the damp and the death and the beasts in the dark

how we have claimed the night as our own

new twilight home one with more of our secrets out in the open as if we still couldn’t see.

How we are rich with so much cold light it spills out of almost every window like a sort of soundless laughter.

What would they say if they could see how we have made our own day in the darkness and how it’s beautiful in its way.

Funny how, as we defeated so much of our ancient enemy, and illuminated the unknown black out of so much of the world

we found more and more of the night, in ourselves.

I wonder if our grandfathers could tell.