open to what’s
next,
loving like a
child,
life’s not as you
warned,
i recall feelings..
not facts that drag
me back
into questioning
intentions.
hope
while spilling
soul–
you convey
in such vibrant tones–
wish i lived in the world
you must
know,
feather hands swaying
through dialogue
as if brushing away
all gloom
to freshen the breath
of this sunlight
starved
room.
hope turned
away,
and in blinded
eyes
the sunlight
hid,
as if to shun our wants
for warmth,
until the day she’d gaze
our way again
to grant us her wealth
of attention.
braced to your
wing,
wind whipping
skin–
a trust
sheltered within.
you brought flowers to
this madness
and watched them wilt
where planted,
then stood guard with
vigilance
as the elements tendered
them life.
a stretch from
the cave-
trembling for
sunlight,
in hopes your warmth
finds its
way
through the thickest
of nights.
deliver hope
on gentler tongue,
to ears in need
of nurture,
to souls in fear
of futures
yet to be etched
in sky.
hands in the garden 
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