Seven
floors of slipping away,
Two
scarred women.
I
sat in my backyard breathing out prayers
Holding
onto your heavy words as to
Shelter
your shredded heart
Manifold
tragedy wounding anew
Not
to mention the headlines heralding
Heft
so substantial
Pulling
me down, to the soil
And
I felt the lift of blossoming peonies,
Fragrance
carrying
Eyes
enamored by the pentifold
Crouched
beneath the lush arch of rippling petals
I
will wear beauty like a bullet-proof vest
Clothed
in Living Fire
Moving
beyond the engulfing mire
Into
praisegiving rest.
