Ode to the Wielders of Teaspoons

Sometimes a shadow falls across our days,
Its vastness spawning thoughts all light is gone.
We brace ourselves for battle in the haze,
Though gripped with fear that this war can't be won.
Oppressive darkness creeps, intimidates,
Reduces once-strong voice to timid tone,
Infectiously distracts and isolates,
Until each feels s/he faces war alone.
Yet in the shadow we each stand our ground;
Then whispers penetrate the silent pall.
The echo's edges glow; we look around,
To find that we are not alone at all.
And suddenly with hope we start to fight;
It is collective will that saves the light.