Darkest of the night
when spoken simple words
…my love the light
lands perfectly
You have the face of an angel
Saving grace
and all that we were taught
in stained glass cathedrals
Ceilings reaching out
grabbing hold of the heavens
with windows that bleed
Holiest of waters pouring
onto the faithless
Color soothes the soul
for sinners and not
Bead readers in silent prayer
words strung together
signs of the Cross
we have yet to bear
The son, his, or her name
guiding the way
bring us to our knees
Thankful for what we have
finally found
and now as walls
crumble around me
piece by tiny piece
My life is quietly dismantled
and only those that watch
from high above
can bring it all to an end
While waiting has never
been a virtue
I ponder and question
I wait and wonder
– counting the stars
– waiting for a peaceful
slumber…that does not come…waiting…

© 2016 Trilby