A New Day

Squeeze your eyes tight against the crack of light around the window blind and it becomes a cross under your closed lid.

Breathe deep. Stretch.

Pain murmurs down your right side from temple to tail, a remnant from the miracle rescue by guardian angels when, in your dark rush yestermorn, you pitched headlong down four steps into the unforgiving grey concrete garage floor.

Lay there shaking, spill thanks like a broken rosary, tears bead and scatter, gather you up angel wings and set you whole in front of the congregation.

Sing.

Declare truth about chains broken and hips unbroken and falls healed and love restored after pitching headlong over twelve steps in your own dark night. The twisting pain from temple to tail as you break out of denial, shed the security blanket of blame and wear forgiveness like a crown.

And the angels marvel.

Smile.

Squint tight at the light around the crack in your blindness and see it becomes a cross where love pours out.

This is where the healing begins.
The light meets the dark.
Dance on the ashes of your life.
Your life is a temple.
Go tell your tale.
It's a new day.



Picture: personal collection