A second poem for today: a response to paint-chip poetry #16.
No wishing well will make the future less foggy —
Harbor no fear, however, for power and mercy
Fall like Niagara, into the Grand-Canyon-esque
Depths of sin and pain and misery.
This moment is a dew-drop on the flower
Of your parched, yet living, new beginning.
This moment has the aura of a sacred journey:
An antique rose becomes fragrant with divine charity.