Birthmarks

Peal up shadows,

and drape them over

the deck rails.

The sun

will dry them

like raisins.

 

Gather them wrinkled.

Don’t iron out

the mystery,

but leave a trail

back to the Light

that birthed them.

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A NEW DAY. Sunday.

How many have written of a sunrise?

The darkness peeled slowly like an orange.

The thumb of God pushed up the dimmer switch.

 

The light swept the horizon and overflowed its banks.

Silhouettes shed layer after layer.

Shadows stretched, yawned, and shrunk.

 

It dawned on me.

This day, I will stand in the light.

I will walk in the light.

 

No sense in tripping over shadows.

 

“Jesus once again addressed them: ‘I am the world’s Light. No one who follows me stumbles around in the darkness. I provide plenty of light to live in.'”  John 8:12 The Message