Into the Light, Where You Belong

Smell of mold
and musty leaves
raindrops on the windshield
in the still-dark dawn

linger in the depths
of darkness and desire,
where your spirit most
yearns to be free

where the long-held
confinement has rendered you
listless and lifeless

crazy before the eyes of man
yet pure in your creative depth,

where the Wise Woman,
flowing silver hair,
adorned in robes
of lavender

holds open the door
for you and cries,
“Lay down your arms!

Fight no more,
grieve no more,
die no more.

Walk into the Light,
where you belong.”