The Weightless Lift

The things I carry on the shore, 
don't seem to matter anymore. 
The tired heart, the busy mind,
are all the things I've left behind.

As this mountain starts to swell,
I'm lifted from my heavy shell.
I raise my hand to meet the air
and find a peace that's waiting there.

It isn't much, a wave, a breath,
a moment stolen back from stress.
But in this rise and in this fall,
I have the Lord in my heart and that is all.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace