Shaking the chill of years passed

                     Several years wash away. Time does echo
when I blink. Oh the chills of a memory. One layer
unfolded, unleashed.

                      Entering the coolness, the solid light of
a moment. Standing tall and clear. One more step that
made me who I am. Several glances to check the reality
of the hours.

                      Oh the wonders quake the very paleness.
Softly echoes the questions, the tears that fell. Still I
am clearly not back under a storm. I am healthy and
vibrant from the current status of love.

                      Simply put are the hopes. Opening the
wounds long enough to realize I am real. I am a
stronger woman, I breathe. I hold onto the guidance
of Jehovah's words. One by one the right moments will
call to unhand the emotions.

                      Oh the grand allowances to recall.
To follow the steps just one more day. Ah to let
the tears fall in joy of the positive steps approached
to breathe. To be allowed to be called a person once
more.

                     Step back. Look over the pages of a
worn, well read book. Flapping paper in the wind as
I am set free.

                     Still there are matters that break the
silence. Unearth the hurt. Pull and dissect the details
of a one sided draw. Entertaining the blindness of
words. The echoing, lost understanding of love.

                    Oh how I drag myself to now. Blinking
stormy grayish blues. Setting distance between then
and now. Breathing the changes, noticing the differences.

                    Yes so much has been moved. So much has
been adjusted, accepted. Now onward I travel to bring
another door to a locked closure, just for a little while.

                    Shaking out the dust every once in a while.
Hitting on the notes of losing but gaining so much more.

                    The radiance of Jehovah's love. The
echoes of support given. Every step I make draws
closure to those years passed. Emptying the mind of
old cobwebs and decorated the stained glass with a
new cleansing.

                     So here I stand holding onto a new
possibility. Entering today with a new hope of
settling the memory with a brand of fresh ink, fire.