Diagnosis
At the moment the sound married the air
God must have swept me up into Her bosom and covered me
In orange and yellow flecks of light
That shielded me from the piercing pain
That was sure to erupt in the enclaves of my soul
She knew I wasn’t ready; not in that moment
To process what was to be one of the many challenges of my life
So I let the light dance around me
Like the skirts of Haitian dancers in the afternoon breeze
Her words cam like a deep whispered spirit
That only I would know
Somewhere in between I was allowed
To be free from the magnitude of what was now my reality…
©
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