In response to an invitation to drop deep to the quiet place within myself where I could find something tangible that would offer me the peace I seek,  I wrote:

A tiny flame flickers at the bottom of an endless wordless unknowing place of safety, of dark warmth, of sheltering walls of earth. It is this flickering flame that I can see when I squint my eyes. It gives no warmth; it is too small. What it gives is a glimmer of hope. It soothes the raging animal that I have become. It draws me away from the dark festering pit of pain that had claimed me on a bright blue-skied sunny morning. I clasp my hands around this weak flame to protect it from the storms to come. I know that if it goes out I am lost. But it will not die because it is not of my making. I do not know its source but I do know its power, its promise.

It is this tender flame that will save the world from itself. I must keep my eyes squinting in just the right way so I will not lose sight of this hope, this tiny light that we must see in the dark days ahead. The peace I feel in its presence will sustain me in the work that lies ahead. If I can always hold sight of the fragile flickering flame of hope I will survive. I hold it dear to my heart.
 

©2001 Patricia Lay-Dorsey. Please use with proper attribution.