First, take out a box of matches. Strike the match against the rough sandpapery side, a fast movement, a flick of the wrist to ignite the flame. You will need the light to dive into the pool that is your heart, to pump it into being, to quicken your pulse. You will need your blood to flow in your veins, to feel your breath against your lungs. Hold the match carefully. The light will be small at first, and tender. It will be difficult to see in the dark, where your soul may be hiding.
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Suzanna, your poem reflects exactly how I felt a week ago right now when, during a family cookout in South Carolina, a great-nephew checked his phone, showed me the story that Iran was attacking Israeli installations with hundreds of drones and said, "Well, here comes World War III." It didn't turn out that way this time, at least yet, but I fear it could soon. In such dark times, we need new light to show us the way to peace.
Thank you, Suzanna. As always, you give me something to think about........................