Past the grip of fisted darkness
we have come again, again.
Past an empty-pantry starkness
we have come.
Past the angry kick of ceilings
we have come again, again.
Past sagging Psalms and ragged feelings
we have come.
Past the oven’s gaping,
twisted sense of pain-escaping.
Words, like parachutes, come falling
into consciousness, recalling
former triumphs of the spirit.
Life embraces, draws us near it,
declares us in its love decree–
Je suis, I am, je suis.
Jewniquely Myself 
Joan this is incredibly beautiful. I LOVE the rhythm of it. Just a perfect poem my friend
Thank you so much, Lorraine!
Reblogged this on Campbells World.
Thanks for your support, Patty!
Very well done.
Reblogged.
You should join the writersâ group I belong to.
You need not be a published author to do so.