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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Who shall flee the dusk?

At dawn, 

I was a child. And, 

like a child, I wept

being so filled with trust, 

I could not fathom

a lie.


At sunrise, 

my love burned orange, 


like freshly lit embers

lying still upon a bed

of red-hot coals.


At midmorning,

the earth grew still. Even

the thunderings of God

fell silent upon my deaf ears.


At afternoon, 

the darkness draws nigh;

so, too, have my fears.

The shadows of death stretch long

and reach wide.

And my love, once vast and deep

couches down.

Submitted: November 24, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Jennifer Brighton. All rights reserved.

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