My eyes look outward,

see all this bitter cold.

My sight sees mischief,

so my anxieties take hold.

Where I am looking is

not supplying calm that

I thought would be there;

I see visions of black.

I must shed all this fear

and awaken my strength

from depths of my tears

struck me blind and I sink.

Break I will at the bottom,

where I scratch to crawl out.

My eyes that saw mischief

I direct inward at my doubt.

I’ve a place I used to go

it was a pasture calm grows.

A field fertile with new soil,

awaits new strength I sew.