It is not unusual for SpiritSpeak poems to utilize the term "we," as in this poem. People ask who is "we?" I don't have a ready answer other than the aspect of me that most identifies with Love thinks of herself as plural, rather than singular. The closest image, and it is flawed, is of a team of guardian angels. That's the best description I have at the moment.
If you are experiencing a dark period, assume this poem was written for you, with love.
As you sink into darkness and vision
dims
While fear whispers with all its
allure,
When tomorrow is more dreaded than
today, and
Connections seem faded and illusory,
Can anything be gained, or regained?
While you sleep, we perch at the end of
the bed
Watching you breathe,
Remembering, for you, your innocence.
Innocence is a terrifying thing to
forget, or doubt.
To embark on a journey of
self-evaluation
Without our guidance leads, inevitably,
to the darkest of nights.
Your vision is so very different than
ours,
With just enough overlapping truth to
appear real, trustworthy.
Do you not know that we see
and have always seen
Your weaknesses, your selfishness, your
internal struggles,
Your expectations and demands?
Did you think all these years that you
pursued us, and we you,
We were blind to your blindness?
Precious child, perfection is your aim,
not ours.
Perfection is your expectation, not
ours.
There is no one within the realm of our
care
That we honor more for her intention,
her integrity, her effort.
We accept at this time, during this
night, that you mistrust us,
Doubt us, perhaps even disdain us. We get it.
While you loosen your grasp on us, we
hold fast to you,
Trusting you, loving you, knowing you,
our friend.
We called to you so long ago, and you
jumped with joy.
We will never forget.
