I once lot myself to sadness.
I've been to that ledge
And I'm lucky to say I've not jumped off.
But I do understand
And I pull power from that comprehension.
It's almost impossible to believe it when you're there,
That this could ever be something you might survive.
Everything seems so concrete.
But I stand as proof that this is not so.
I once lost myself to sadness.
I do expect to again encounter it,
But I know now,
at least,
There is an end.

Black crows, circling the sky
Beneath dark clouds, alone they fly

Coconut trees, with lush green blades
Swaying leaves, and trunks with plaids

Gravel, marked with tire tracks and stones
Footsteps strange and familiar it owns

Along the road, a light turns on
A swing set, a porch seat, a life is born

And here sits the poet, watching with awe
Looking with her pen, writing what she saw

~Moniba.