Innocence

The day's light softens into shades of blue shadows
that yawn shyly into the blanket that will become the dark of night.
My eyes pencil in the contours of fading trees and sky, as birds flee
towards the comfort of nest and warmth.

Words are hanging like insects caught in spider silk,
as I think of all the times silence was the only way
to cut through the threads of my concerns,
floating on the breeze of quiet, broken wing.

Here, now, within, without, with you near, with you far,
there are no answers to be found, only whispers to brush aside,
as night settles its velvet black around my heart and mind,
tired, relieved, sure footed on wet and heavy steps,
that go around and up, far beyond where I can see.

The roar inside me, all around me, as silence pats me on the shoulder
to go inside, to be where home is safe and bright, and dreams
let me slumber peacefully at last, a child safe from harm and past,
I hear the whispers sweet of innocence beside me, her song light and free.

No words are necessary, I see them float past me, sentinels past the dark waves,
as I stand resolutely on land, strong, proud, my shield and sword resting by my side. 


Trudi Ralston.
November 23rd, 2016.