Soul sobs with aching need, pleads for muted moments
In midst of mad holiday maelstrom; a muffled
Lessening of too-loud-blinding-bright. Lord, dim clamored glare; calm
Eagerness to gorge, consume, grab gusto in both fists that
Numbs heart’s emptiness, echoing endless anguished throb
Trees’ pewter-misted bare-branched rest speaks silent ease
~~The nearest thing to Peace on Earth
©Sand Lashelsea, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.
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