August 1, 2016

The Longest Nights. {Poem}

Chris Glass

They are fewer

and farther between

but the achingly arduous

long nights of my soul

still come.


You may have been there too.

The witching hour:

that pause between night

and the release of day

that has a physical ache,

a lump in the throat,

a heart-throb.


The thoughts that

stream, unbidden, nonsensical

exhausting. A restlessness,

a hollow hopelessness,

an emptiness.


And yet,

this I now know to be true:

we must get through the

longest nights of the spirit

to bear witness to the most

magnificent dawns.



Author: Keeley Milne

Image: Christopher Glass, used with permission

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

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