I cloaked myself
in the majesty –
that were the
faux robes
of haughtiness –
losing my way.
Calling out
shouts as whispers
tears as fears
joy forsaken
redemption tendered
with humility rendered
as a salve –
that healed
the broken places.
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Published by Shun P. Writes
Author, Genealogist, Writer, Poet, possessor of 2 cents, blogger and eternal student of life, who harbors a firm belief in his Grandmother's mantra that:
"People need to get off of their rump and do something".
All while keeping in mind that a cheering section will often get in the way.
View all posts by Shun P. Writes
