The sun did not to rise on Easter morning—
it chose instead to hide in the shadows
and slip through clouded passages,
the wait of humanity resting on its shoulders.
Stuck in this twilight world
we search for a balance
where none seems to exist.
Our hope rests on the horizon line
where a thin crack in the veneer,
a small yet widening gap in the atmosphere
promises salvation.
© Ginny Brannan 2018
Image by G. Brannan
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.