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.
Copyright © Kathryn Sweeney | Year Posted 2021
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