Loneliness Poem by Elizabeth Hefty

Sometimes
In the depths of night
when despair seems at its deepest,
we clutch onto straws.
fragile tendrils of hope
not caring from where
or whence they go.
We know the futility,
the transience of this
yet we persist in clutching them tighter
ignoring their icy touch which burns our skin.
The truth looms large yet we refuse to see,
because the truth is too much to bear alone.

Then comes a strand,
the frailest filament
yet as strong as iron.
Through darkness it gleams,
In nightmares it soothes.
Despite all we hold it,
growing stronger through its touch,
until dawn finally breaks again,
and we can say we're home.