Grateful for the light for years, and the first real attention the thing gets is the night it goes dark on them, which is the part I'm actually cross about, more than any of the storms. Hmph.
What stayed with me most is the way the lighthouse is thanked for its light, but not witnessed in its endurance. Everyone sees what it gives. No one asks what it costs to keep standing through storm after storm.
The line about mistaking its own shaking for failure really landed. That feels so true of people who are expected to be steady for everyone else. They can be cracking, exhausted, frightened, or barely holding themselves together, and still believe the problem is that they are not strong enough.
And the cracks facing inland is such a powerful image. The damage hidden from the sea, from the direction everyone assumes is the danger, while the unseen side quietly breaks.
The ending hurts because it is so familiar: people often do not notice the strain until the light goes out.
Those were exactly the thoughts in my mind whilst writing.
We often see but don’t really witness the strength or endurance needed underneath, and our focus is always on the external facing edges that are visible - never the cracks we are so good at keeping hidden.
Such a lovely reading of the piece and comment to read, as it really feels like the piece and writing have been seen and not just read, which is a true pleasure 🫶
“Seen and not just read” is such a beautiful way to describe it, and honestly, that is what I always hope to offer when someone’s writing really reaches me.
Your piece made that hidden endurance so visible. The way people can keep offering light, steadiness, usefulness, or strength while quietly carrying cracks no one thinks to look for. That kind of unseen strain deserves more than surface appreciation. It deserves witness.
I’m really glad my comment met what you were holding while writing it. It was a beautiful piece, and it stayed with me.
This touched me. Cracks are often seen as signs of something breaking, yet they can also be the places where light, truth, and new life first find their way in. I've come to think that what we call brokenness is sometimes the beginning of greater authenticity, the moment the carefully constructed surface can no longer contain what is trying to emerge from within.
That’s such a wonderful way to shift away from things breaking, Vlad, and towards something more positive and grounded. I love your thought process there.
Thank you, Mark. I'm really glad it resonated. I think many of the experiences we initially call "breaking" are actually moments when an older way of being can no longer contain who we're becoming. They're rarely comfortable, but they often open the possibility for a life that is more honest, more coherent, and more deeply our own. Thanks for another thought-provoking piece. 🫶
Thanks for sharing, @Jennifer Wagner
A big lesson to take from this.
Yes. Thanks for seeing that! 🖤
i have 2 ways of reading things: one is for the value of the writing, the second is for what it may be saying behind.
Definitely! It’s quite hard to be similtaneously objective on both at one time. Possible but tough - for me at least 😂
Is not easy no… requires effort and a huge disciplined. I don’t struggle with discipline, but am tired of efforts:)
haha - I can really get that!
;)
Just like people to take things for granted.
Yep!
Beautiful. And it relates to so many things...
Thank you, Brenda and surprisingly, it does!
Grateful for the light for years, and the first real attention the thing gets is the night it goes dark on them, which is the part I'm actually cross about, more than any of the storms. Hmph.
This is quietly devastating.
What stayed with me most is the way the lighthouse is thanked for its light, but not witnessed in its endurance. Everyone sees what it gives. No one asks what it costs to keep standing through storm after storm.
The line about mistaking its own shaking for failure really landed. That feels so true of people who are expected to be steady for everyone else. They can be cracking, exhausted, frightened, or barely holding themselves together, and still believe the problem is that they are not strong enough.
And the cracks facing inland is such a powerful image. The damage hidden from the sea, from the direction everyone assumes is the danger, while the unseen side quietly breaks.
The ending hurts because it is so familiar: people often do not notice the strain until the light goes out.
This is beautiful, spare, and painfully true.
Thank you so much, Dani.
Those were exactly the thoughts in my mind whilst writing.
We often see but don’t really witness the strength or endurance needed underneath, and our focus is always on the external facing edges that are visible - never the cracks we are so good at keeping hidden.
Such a lovely reading of the piece and comment to read, as it really feels like the piece and writing have been seen and not just read, which is a true pleasure 🫶
Mark, that means so much to me.
“Seen and not just read” is such a beautiful way to describe it, and honestly, that is what I always hope to offer when someone’s writing really reaches me.
Your piece made that hidden endurance so visible. The way people can keep offering light, steadiness, usefulness, or strength while quietly carrying cracks no one thinks to look for. That kind of unseen strain deserves more than surface appreciation. It deserves witness.
I’m really glad my comment met what you were holding while writing it. It was a beautiful piece, and it stayed with me.
Thank you 😊 🤗 😊
Thank you for responding to my comment. That means so much to someone who is here for you.
Mark, the poem unspools its wisdom so simply it makes it all the more powerful. Just outstanding.
Thank you! 🫶
the cracks facing inland - that's a lot to chew on
it seems simple, but maybe it’s something we all have? we show a strong exterior to the world but the world never sees what we’re not showing 🫶
Well, that would be me 😃
Perhaps that is the loneliness of being the lighthouse.
Everyone learns to navigate by your light.
Very few ask about the storms.🥹
Thank you, Mark.
That’s a wonderful observation, per LEY 🫶
This touched me. Cracks are often seen as signs of something breaking, yet they can also be the places where light, truth, and new life first find their way in. I've come to think that what we call brokenness is sometimes the beginning of greater authenticity, the moment the carefully constructed surface can no longer contain what is trying to emerge from within.
That’s such a wonderful way to shift away from things breaking, Vlad, and towards something more positive and grounded. I love your thought process there.
Thank you for your thoughts and ideas here. 🫶
Thank you, Mark. I'm really glad it resonated. I think many of the experiences we initially call "breaking" are actually moments when an older way of being can no longer contain who we're becoming. They're rarely comfortable, but they often open the possibility for a life that is more honest, more coherent, and more deeply our own. Thanks for another thought-provoking piece. 🫶
❤️ lighthouses have this powerful and somehow strange vibe. Being the guiding light carries a burden. Beautiful poem!
They do, Meg! I love them. They carry so many meanings and parallels for us and our engagement with others.
Thanks!
Yes exactly. The storms are so many. Mark gorgeous poem.
There can be, Dorie, yes. 🫶
I love this. So many deep meanings here to unpack
Thank you Shelby! 🫶
Beautiful, Mark. I know some lighthouse people ❤️
Thank you, Jessie! 🩶
this one is very sad. i hope it will light up again. i am trying not to go out. i am succeeding so far.