let there be light

let there be light

inside the mole dark,
shivered like a slim fit
bandage of blackest crepe,
the rooms sink, slithering smaller
and nearer and damper and colder
and closer
and
then
the noises begin:

a creak of death in the rafters.
broken voices
trapped within the walls
scuttling
scratching mice
too large for their holes.

then the parlour games
lit by tiny candles,
with big, bold flames,
guttering with unseen guests.

pre-recorded messages
tell us the darkness will be long.
whilst gloved hands
work furiously to untangle
the jumbled electricity.

and

as suddenly as the fear spread
the light is bright once more.

the rooms seem larger and whiter
and lighter in temperament.
the hope is new
and warm
and safe.