Water

Sunlight trickles through stained glass windows.
She kneels, a little apart from her fellows
who also seek salvation in water.
Her gray hair slips from her circumspect braid,
and her Sunday-best thrift-store garb
stands out because it doesn't.
Shaking fingers tap the rail
Nervous feet twitch as she waits.
The water flows down the line of supplicants
till it reaches her, and instantly,she is transformed,
beautiful from scraggly braid to thrift-store shoes.
Can mere water cause this transformation?
Is this a message for me---
Another arrow into the heart of my agnosticism?
I don't know, but for now, 
there is sunlight trickling through stained glass windows.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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Lindley Avatar
August 1, 2015 at 8:46 AM
While Life exists there is always Hope. Anybody can reach out and grab the prize. I did and I was by no means a saint. Great poem, solid 7 from me. A7
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