Remember the precious days of childhood…
who can resist
the splash of water
Sometimes, as a child, and I cannot remember why, I would be at home alone in the dark. They must have been brief interludes, but from my perspective then they seemed drawn-out. The old house appeared to mutter and seethe around me, shadows moving in from the corners. I felt exposed and vulnerable, and always I would go outside into the warm darkness where I could hide.
finger pointing between the major powers
while children die in the rubble of their argument
morality buried under power struggles
by the bombs they claim not to have dropped
and the world watches, helpless to stop
this blasphemy, against humanity, against God
and our prayers bounce off the uncaring sky
I will not share the photographs of this suffering…we have all seen them. This is humanity’s shame.
Sharing the wisdom of God's Word with a needy world
A Storyteller's View
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"Not everyone who wanders is lost"
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Oh! Take a shit, read a story. - My Mother on flash fiction
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