fear lapping at my feet–
feet raw and bloody from the sharp rocks of circumstance,
the slicing of life–
each sucking footprint fills black with liquid foam;
but with a will, I bend toward light.
Step by step, I feel for light, searching the weightlessness of hope,
for the splinters of God-light.
And it helps to open my eyes.
The splinters are like glass, beautiful but piercing painful.
And it helps to open my eyes,
for there is forever light above this worrying wave and cloud.
“Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.”