These lights shine independent
of our hooded fears,
our darting doubts
that cover them like wind-whipped cloaks
to make them seem to blink and waver
or our yearning plea that they be validated
as if to make them shine they must be seen
These lights we fight for,
strive, with all our rough-made tools
to protect
and strive, through strict regimes
to make more bright
Shine on their own.
Nothing we can do can stop their shining
Nothing we can do makes them appear
But still their beacon calls across the night
Their signal constant, radiant and clear.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2012