In deep of woods, I sink into pain’s hell
As footsteps grind heavily on lowland calm,
Where a staring raven cannot foretell,
How near or far I'll be from sorrow’s harm.
While flickers of light descend on relay
Hovering on leaves, grim hues still prevail,
Yet, breaths endure the sting from evening’s play
Till clouds devour my gray doubts, I begin to wail.
And as I droop wearily in bent form,
This lifeline succumbs to uncertainty,
That beads of prayer dissolve before dawn
Compounding all fears beneath the wise tree.
Somehow, a dove climbs on my lap, to show
How the moon rises as new flowers glide;
While Heaven awaits starlight's afterglow
Enshrining this moment where peace abides.
Gail Doyle's Finding God Contest