Available Light

Lighthouses do not choose where they stand. Children are much the same. Their foundations are built wherever they take root. What good is a lighthouse or child that stays dark?

I am a lighthouse.

Some lights burn bright, some remain dark.

Some stand upon the shore, others are built inland.

We are all lighthouses.

And every lighthouse was once a child.

I. Darkness

A child that is born into the light

that surrounds,
that covers,

then reflects

shines.

A child that is born into darkness,

that surrounds,
that covers,

then becomes

doesn’t.

The lighthouses of the world
know the difference.

Children born into darkness,
who do not choose where they are planted,
know it too.

When a child grows up in the dark,
they can hear the world talking to itself
around them,
but never back to them.

They can see the light of others
shining around them,
but never back at them.

When they are young,
they don’t understand.

They think
if they keep making noise,
if they keep reaching toward the light,
they will be seen and heard
just as the world around them is.

But the noise of the world
is meant for other ears,
for those born to be heard.

And the light
is meant for other eyes,
for those born to be seen.

And so, a child remains dark
surrounded by light.

In silence,
surrounded by noise.

And one day,
when she has grown enough
and seen enough,

she notices

she is one of many.

“And in the naked light I saw ten thousand people, maybe more. People talking without speaking. People hearing without listening. People writing songs that voices never shared.
And no one dared disturb the sound of silence.”

II. Available Light

At first,
a child in the dark
does not know
what light is made from.

But she knows
it is real.

So she plays
with the idea.

Draws pictures of it.

Makes up imaginary people
who share it with her.

Friends who light up
when they see her.

Parents who shine
when they think of her.

A world that stops
to look
when it hears her.

She gives light rules.

She decides
how it acts.

She decides
what it means.

And she watches
from the spot
she was planted.

She lets the light carry

love,
connection,
sound,

from where she sits.

And she dreams

of all the places
she would go

if she could
follow the light.

“Run to light from shadow, sun gives me no rest. Promise offered in the east, broken in the west. Chase the sun around the world. I want to look at life in the available light.”

III: Inner light

And one day,

through play,
through imagining,
through building
with a child’s things,

it happens.

She starts to shine.

At first,
the light is dim.

It does not chase away
the dark,

but it is
a place to start.

She protects it.

Treasures it.

Helps it grow.

Refuses to let the world
put it back out.

And it gets brighter
and brighter

until the world
sees her light,

until the world
begins to talk to her.

As she grows,

she begins to forget
that there ever was a time
she did not shine.

But she never forgets

the other lighthouses
that stand dark.

When she grows up,

she uses her light

to shine at those
who still know darkness,

who have not learned yet

that they can create
their own light.

So she

surrounds,
covers,

reflects,

then becomes

the light that shines

on those who need

to be seen,
to be heard,

the most.

“You wanna dance. You don’t know how to get it on the floor. Then don’t hold back for anyone. Close your eyes, just follow the inner light. (You count on me.) So follow me to our old life, falling deeper into the light.”

We are all lighthouses.

Some stand upon the shore, others are built inland.

Some lights burn bright, some remain dark.

I am a lighthouse.

And every lighthouse was once a child.

Author’s Note:

Author’s final note: Access to AAAV’s Virtual Love Letter and additional content will always remain free. I believe deeply in creating quality, accessible resources for my neurokin around the world, regardless of ability to pay.

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