Call the word to dare it now
Soul breathes first to toll the bough.
Small wrongs become the severed vasts
that slow devour that trust must last.
And in its place comes cloaked remains;
the loss of trust, the deep red stains.
Stand back from dare to advantage here,
A cloaked ext-ere bears more to revere…
For silence grows to bare Souls Word,
and motions forth the pour of Right
upon all set to doubts Its might.
©2014 Linda Willows, republished 2012
Photograph by Vladislav Antonov