It’s not a cure but ……

there’s a solace
in the moonlight
where the trees raise shadows to a night
black as pearl, glowing hope
through pain
where clouds sleep over water
as eyes ache, ears wake
to the sound of hope filling skies

walk with me through treelined paths,
listen to the rustlings and snufflings
of early morning dew
feel the beat of the drum of the pulse
of waking hours,
stretch new fragile wings
and in that moment of stillness,
we breathe again
as the spirit sings