I toppled
into
a
hole
the other night.

I didn’t realise
I was falling
until I landed
in the mud.

The cold mud
untouched by light
for
ever such a long time.

At first I thought
I was mistaken.
The cold mud started
licking at my
bare ankles.

I didn’t realise it was
pitch dark
at first.
My mind was busy.

But then the
cold crept up
into my heart
and I was afraid.

I felt too ashamed
to call out.
But an older
wiser me insisted.

I picked my most
reliable friends.
They crowded around.
The hole was too small
for a visitor.

They sent a hug,
a happy story,
encouragement.
‘You’ve survived
holes before!’

‘Don’t worry you’ll be
out before you know it!’

‘You only ever fall into
holes when you’re
concentrating on something
very important!’

Slowly, their words
formed a ladder of grace.
supplemented with
romantic comedies,
the ironing, and
favourite piano tunes.

But the cold held on.
Outside the hole,
I was afraid of falling.
Looked only at the ground,
missed the sky, and stars,
missed smiles and stories.

In the end, I stopped.
I dug my cold heart out
and warmed it in my hands,
whispered to it,
lifted it up high and
showed it all the wonder
of the universe.

‘The world is
full of hope.’
I told it.  You have
nothing to fear.
It is true that holes
exist.  But they are
rare.  Look!
The beauty of the
world is yours to
choose.  Do not
let it slip away
through fear.’

My heart sat
trembling in my hand.
Time stood still.
Eventually the shaking
stopped.  My heart
grew warm again.

I placed it carefully
within me,
and walked on
with a slight spring
in my still-cautious
steps.