All struggles are like a tunnel.
Beginning in the dark
and ending in light.
But for the orphan, the fatherless, the abused,
5. The struggle is a longer tunnel, a taller mountain.
It is like a winding, unmarked, unknown path marked with three milestones.
It begins with the first, pain.
A young innocent child entrapped in darkness.
His eyes see nothing but the black of night.
10. His ears become scarred from endless screams.
His skin becomes bruised from piercing thorns.
His bleeding heart is pushed deeper and deeper into his soul,
Wondering when he will see the dawn, the light.
But day after day the night gets darker.
15. Day after day he learns not to feel,
not to see,
not to hear.
Searching desperately in the tunnel for the light he once new,
He enters the second part of his journey.
20. He finds himself in the middle of the tunnel, where the light behind him has vanished
and the light ahead is hidden.
Separation.
The glimmer of hope held tight in the grip of his hands is ripped away,
Debris of a broken family is thrown out,
25. And the ledge that he hung onto to survive is removed,
and he falls deeper into darkness.
Flashing, fluorescent lights fill his eyes
Sirens surround him in an array of confusion.
He feels the tight grip on his arm, like the claws of a hawk,
30. Forcing him deeper into the depths of the unknown.
Then all of it ceases, all of it stops,
And he is alone.
Alone in a world that turned its back on him.
But, slowly, as he limps in the dark,
35. a flicker of light comforts him.
As he enters into a new life, he enters into the last section of the tunnel.
A family awaits, ready to accept,
But with his hurt heart, his scarred ears, and closed eyes, he continues his path,
Surviving like he had been for so long,
40. Alone.
But as the family reaches in
the pain of his past finally begins to leak out from the depths of his soul.
The screams that had scarred his ears are sometimes released from his dry lips.
The eyes that were sealed shut opened with glares.
45. But they opened nevertheless.
And on this last section of the tunnel,
His rough, callused skin begins to soften,
His heart begins to heal.
The tunnel goes on, but the light becomes stronger.
50. I try sometimes, to feel his wounds, to feel his scars,
Imagining the claws of separation or the pain of the thorns.
But, nothing I can envision is near to his torment.
He crawls through the tunnel blind and vulnerable,
Nothing to stand on, nothing to hold to.
55. And, while I don’t have the scars to understand
I have the strength to outstretch my arm.
The dawn approaches, the day arrives,
And we will see the sunrise.