Death wins nothing here,gnawing wings that amputate––then spread, lift up, fly.
Compassion crowns the soul with its truest victory.
History dressed up in the glow of love’s kiss turned grief into beauty.
In a rich moonlit garden, flowers open beneath the eyes of entire nations terrified to acknowledge the simplicity of the beauty of peace.
A woman does not become whole until she has a baby.
Love, Mercy, and Grace, sisters all, attend your wounds of silence and hope.
This is what our love is––a sacred pattern of unbroken unity sewn flawlessly invisible inside all other images, thoughts, smells, and sounds.
Everywhere we shine death and life burn into something new…
Even when muddy your wings sparkle bright wonders that heal broken worlds.
A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmareto the jeweled vision of a life started anew.
Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.
