First, I will say close your eyes.
Lock them tight shut and look at the phosphenes
That whir and dance in the darkness.
Colour and noise are within you.
Next, I will remind you
You are not wrong.
You are not too much,
Or too little.
What you are, is complicated.
And I love you for that,
Because you are complicated,
Because you are raw, and soft, and broken.
Yes even you, and your scarred hands,
Your shaking heart’s bloodrush
And your endless glorious failures.
I will not stop my faith in you.
I will bathe you in goldglow like a searchlight,
Illuminating roiling oceans and the safe path
To shore.
Yes, you can grow beyond this.
You will and you must.
You do not have to sit in this alone,
You can open a window
To let out the noxious brown fog
Of your anger. You can pull up a chair,
To relieve the pressure
On your suppliant knees.
Also, I will tell you to remember that
Your light will guide others,
As mine guides you.
As others’ have guided me.
Do not discount the possibility
That the very people whose light brightens your path,
Might be those for whom you gleam
As a wayfinder.
It is not always a hierarchy or a chronology.
Sometimes it is two lamps burning
Across a dim and silent street,
And where the lights cross,
There is home. So grasp my hand,
The candle flames of my fingers,
Let the sun blaze out from your palm.
There is light in your voice and your soul
And your hope, even when you cannot see it.
You are only blinded by its brightness.
Honour your light, as you honour mine.
For where there is light, the darkness cannot come in,
Though it beats and howls at the window.
And the hollow pools inside you
Where the dark has made a home,
Will not vanish with time. They are part of you,
A backdrop, a contrast to make the light
Burn more wild and true.
I name you lux aeterna, in defiance of our transience.
I call myself leoht ecelic, laughing at my end.
Beacons in the night, reaching for one another,
Until we are absorbed into the greater daylight
That comes, as rest, on the wings of the morning-birds,
In the song of the cold dawn rain.
For Cherwell, maintaining editorial independence is vital. We are run entirely by and for students. To ensure independence, we receive no funding from the University and are reliant on obtaining other income, such as advertisements. Due to the current global situation, such sources are being limited significantly and we anticipate a tough time ahead – for us and fellow student journalists across the country.
So, if you can, please consider donating. We really appreciate any support you’re able to provide; it’ll all go towards helping with our running costs. Even if you can't support us monetarily, please consider sharing articles with friends, families, colleagues - it all helps!
Thank you!
