A life hangs between then and now,

a wayward soul lost in a crowd,

panic blossoms upon an aching chest,

breathes come gasping rapid fire.

 

Mist as thick as trapped in smoke,

surrounds, clouding view and mind,

seeking eyes dart quicker now,

trying to glimpse the light with hope.

 

All around the throng seems to grow,

then a path suddenly appears,

a silhouette steps into view,

a gem amongst rough stone.

 

The presence reaches out a hand,

an offer to draw near,

frozen feet stay deathly still,

marred forever by endless fear.

 

By: Beverly Beekmans (2011)

 

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