after the madness of darkness
after the portals of shattered things
such as tattered lint falling, slowly into spring
hope is a mother’s touch, unable to hold her child
undefined hope has room to grow
knowing the love of a mother, her love is still there
Hope like a wounded bird, pecking its’ way, untapped,
through the holes of despair, pecking at daylight
pecking at the seam
breaking through norms of dying
undue the burden, somethings gotta give
cracking at the yoke- wide with wings,
feeling high in the moment , a gush, a rescued touch
the ebb of love-ones’ emerge
believing, even when I’m weak
there’s possibility~ kindness sister
Krissy Mosley Ministries 