Inheritance of Light
By Niall Twohig
The Monster
snuffs out light.
Cities go dark under Its reign.
Bodies go dim in Its grip.
This planet’s light
fades under Its thumb.
But I have seen a light
that can’t be snuffed out.
You showed me, Da.
I think of you
in your last days,
hunched and withered
from a life of care
that amounted to nothing
(not even enough
to get decent
care for yourself).
I saw your light dim
as darkness closed in,
faster without wealth
to shield you.
Seeing this
left me cynical,
left me thinking:
The Monster wins,
every time.
It won’t let the
best of us
die with dignity:
it bends them low,
breaks them,
blows them up.
But your death
killed my cynicism.
The spark—
that charged your senses
with affection for birds and birdsong
That spark—
that charged your words
with affinity for the stranger
That spark
only seemed to fade,
like the last embers
of fire in your old pipe.
But your final moment
proved me wrong:
You looked at us
with such love,
such tenderness,
as you receded
into the ocean of love,
and your final
breath billowed
life into the spark,
it became a
current of flame
that flowed to me,
flows through me,
charging me as I teach
charging me as I write
charging me
with a light
that illuminates
this Kingdom
not under
the Monster’s reign.
Here, I see the blue bird.
Here, I see golden light on green leaves.
Here, I see my students seeing me.
Here, I see a place for the stranger.
Here, I see it all.
Here, I am a part of it all.
Da, you died poor
But you left me
riches beyond measure.
You left me an
Inheritance of light.