it is now written

supposedly this Indian Summer was more oppressive than those previous


my patio door opened, a cool breeze drifted in

scented with memories of your tranquil smiles and rainfall

i longed to Love you correctly

caress your confidence into the magnificence you meant to magnify

nourish your Spirit so your children would tell tales of your tenacity entwined with your tenderness

banish harlots who extinguished the halo surrounding your aura

oh Prophet of Peace with wisdom etched into you by those who lacked it

some call them scars

i call them paths to righteousness

yes i am speaking of you

writing of you

i am saddened that you even question your God given purpose

hence why He gave me to you

and you named me

my glow will embrace you with Healing light

you are MY Star

and the scent of your memory

keeps me reeling.

© michele mitchell, 2013



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