Thanksgiving
The day I knew what I had to do
There were no fires burning
Anywhere in California,
So it wasn’t impossible to think ahead....
And I heard my own voice
Pushing me out the door
Without anyone following,
No guidance from the wounded,
So I let each foot touch the ground
Like an amateur hiker
Who knew Mt. Everest
Was beckoning on a cold
Thanksgiving morning,
A white temple of light that ignited a cloud ridden landscape
Like an army of seraphim
Rising out of nowhere,
Letting me know that pressing on
Would unleash the savior.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
