Almost Light

The power cut at seven o'clock.

I went to find the flashlight's glow,

pulled the switch—a mockery of shock—

and got a beam so thin and low.

I held it to my face to see

my eyes come back at me, almost not there,

like a memory of who I used to be

before everything started failing in the air.

The red light blinked. Again. Again.

This thing I kept for when things fall

was just another failing thing, and then

I sat on the floor, against the wall,

in almost-dark, with almost-light,

holding the tool that couldn't save

from anything—and felt the fight

inside me rise like some dark wave.