Photo #2

The morning light hits my
Face, and I am awakened
From my slumber. A sleep
As long as the oceans are
Wide. A dream as real as
You.
 
Through the banister I looked
to see the light.
The wooden floor was cool
and dark with age.
Grandmother whispered
from above
as dust motes
fogged the shadows.

Tomorrow I will look again
and lay upon the floor.
The light will shine
and the dust will dance.
To relive and recapture
a memory long gone
and to hear her voice
just once more.
 
Shaded Light

Freedom is a funny thing
Given it, she never left,
The door was unlocked,
those bars wooden and rotted.
Why she remained,
a prisoner? Nay not even a guest
Stand she never did, close to the level He walked on….
She claimed it as a birthright ,
alone and proud,
alive and vibrant
the light a beacon to her slavehood.
Words kept her and then
He did….
That light shone ever bright in her
Eyes for her One.
 
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