The Small Light

In the firelight, long ago,
where the pines howled in the wind,
Christmas was me and you.

And as the dark and storms return,
I remember you and grieve -
for you, for the loss of innocence,
for my home and life,
swept away
so far beyond forever,
and yet, in memory,
almost within reach.

In the lamplight, in the firelight,
of those long-ago winter nights,
we clung together,
for shelter and for safety,
in a turbulent world
where our dreams,
our own small world of two,
pulled us through.

And now I cry for you,
for our home,
in this same desolate wilderness,
but I am alone.

The darkness fell
long before winter returned this time.
And in my memory,
I search for the distant light - 
the memory of two children
clinging to each other for shelter,
in the lamplight and firelight
of long ago,
as the pines cried in the wind
and the world raged.

I sit here alone
in the endless dark,
remembering
that small light.