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Retired archaeologist and governmental tree-hugger. I'm a: United Methodist lay pulpit supply preacher; semi-professional photographer; and poet.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

My Darkness

I wear a heavy cloak of invisible midnight;
Even on the clearest day, it shades me,
From the sun - 
The umbra of a pall;
And even though it can be seen by none,
All sense its oily presence -
An odor,
Like the stench of rotting meat -
A miasma of introverted worry;
And so,
I walk away.

I walk through the woods.
I walk through the prairie.
I walk beside still waters.
There I find the sun reflected by the finest jewels -
Bright flowers at my feet, frail and hardy all at once.
Thus the sun sneaks in, up beneath my hidden cloak.
Thus the fecund smells of Spring, 
And the soft scents of Hope,
Light a candle in the darkness!

Tiwago


(photography by tiwago)

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