In the still and quiet hours
when the wind no longer blows,
when the pain eats at your heart
and joy lies frozen in the snow—
how delicate the tiny stem
the one still reaching for the light,
the heart that only wants to mend
that searches for the sun again;
the butterfly with broken wing
who seeks out respite from her pain
as love that’s carried her heart
slips her face like falling rain.
When we’re lost in our despair
and know that we’re beyond repair–
like the stem that seeks the light
and breaks the earth again to bloom,
we ride the storm, the endless night
and wait for time to bind our wounds.
© Ginny Brannan 2022
Image C. Parant Appetite for Photos Used with Permission.
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.