A Glimpse of Starlight

Musings on March, both the month and the season of the soul. Also, I did something fun with this poem. 😉  

Maybe this time

All our hopes of light and warmth won’t be

Ripped away by wind,

Captured by the clinging cold spring can’t seem to shake,

Hurled and shattered on frosted blades.

~ 

Maybe this time

All my hopes of change and growth won’t be

Ripped to shreds by shame,

Captured by the clinging nature I can’t seem to shake,

Hurled and shattered on stubborn sin.

~ 

Miracles are signs of spring, they say,

Although this time it feels like

Riots and relapse are all these

Changes in season see fit to bring me—

Hope, anyone? Healing? Where are they?

~ 

Maybe pain must precede peace,

All that winter before the warmth,

Riots in the soul before the rest;

Calm before the storm—or is it after?

How about dancing through the storm into the sun?