It’s in the eyes, the depths where
souls swim in pools of
black and white prints,
behind doors locked tight
with faces blurred and names forgotten.
There’s a wall buried deep, within our reach,
a point of no beyond, where denial provides
a path for retreat, or repentance
washing us clean.
Hold fast your position, the image of a
sea dividing with people passing through
safely to the other side.
God is now and forever more
the substance of my praise.
Roger Singer 