I guess those who have been there will understand. I wrote this one in a very hard time:
Hell shall not be the place to hang my hat.
In the looming darkness, when the stars seem washed away
I shall make no habitation, and refuse all visiting.
What must be is passed through.
I have another city, though I have not seen its lineaments.
Mapless, I persevere, hand-held and reliefless.
Rejecting all alternatives – I know their dark true name
And, knowing, will have none of them,
Despite their siren songs.
Beyond light, my city
Stands, with solidity beyond my fleeting flesh
Welcoming her sons and daughters
Summoning them home.
I, mazed and broken, scarce can hear the call;
But follow anyway
The pitiless call of truth half-heard, half-known
But wholly, blindly, absolutely loved!