It seems as if the “winter of our discontent”
will never turn into “glorious summer”
the darkness is so profound
late December early January darkness
that smothers and obliterates
leaving us lost and overwhelmed
this darkness rolls like storm clouds
obliterating the light
the fear deluges us, the lies
overwhelmed by pervasive hate
and foul greed
Evil ones promise shelter
But merely seed the clouds with more fear
More lies
We stand exposed
And face the storm
Small
So small
in these moments, bowed and cowed
I do not want to be small
I do not want to be a mustard seed, a touch of yeast
I want to be lightening and thunder
Earthquake and fire
I want to be a tsunami
That roars
But I am just me
One person
One voice
One heart
Small
With my little touch of faith
My little bit of love, and hope, and joy
Those meager resources I can share
With those whose lives I touch
But the promise is
That is enough
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