It's a night in concrete walls,
The sun's rays warmth has long left
And it seems to harbor the cold and darkness
There's garbage in the corner, a soiled table cloth, old cans and cracked dishes, a broken basket, an empty motor oil container, a rusted shovel, leaves blown in by the wind.
There's pain deep and gnawing,
Fresh and piercing, like the babe's cries as she entered the world,
The pillows were drenched in tears across the tide.
To be unseen, unnoticed in the most subtle shades.
A decade of dying in a thousand ways.
Even the closest ones eyes are dim to the fathomless grief.
The investment in a new hope,
The heart displayed in fragrant beauty, only to be billowed against the seas- placid one moment and tempestuous the next. The blossom battered, hanging on.
Your moments...
Your moments are important to me.
The silent tears and ache, I see.
I enter the room and light invades,
broom in hand and garbage bag, bending low, a steady shoulder and arm to hold,
Loving kindness standing and seeing.
This moment,
Redemption seeping into every crack and sore,
A rich, covering grace,
Sustaining.
The shadow of turning has cut the room in half, which side I stand in changes everything.
