Standing, crookedly, at the bottom of this foothill,
Placed temporarily, as space was readied for a higher location,
On the mountain above;
Which never happened.
In sorrow, a labyrinth was made around,
Making me more of a destination,
Despite my sad, sacramental state,
I await the attention of the Church who placed me here.
So, I may illuminate their lives with joy,
And change this verse of lamentations.
To one of light.
From the Life of St. Francis of Assisi
Nature is listening once more,
Each day treated as the unique moment it is.
Perhaps worth a try today.
Are they still coming forward,
Or merely stopped now,
Providing cover and safety.
How should I know which it is?
Smiling happily in the mid-day sun,
Unfazed by the heat, and the impending darkness of brush fires in a nearby Mohave,
We will survive all, and await the moisture of the dewfall,
And another day.
A crisis observed and examined,
Creates a mark on the soul,
Obscuring peace just a little more.
Until action is taken.