Sunday, August 25, 2013

My Shield

My Shield

A dark room, 
a chair beneath me, I assume.
Then a harsh, blinding flash
a glaring bare bulb
reflecting off its silver globe
and directly into my eyes.
I slam them shut
and tilt my head down.

But next, a sudden shutdown 
to dark.
The flash in my retina dances,
then dims back to blackness.
Open the eyes, head back up.
Comfortable darkness.

Then it blazes back, brighter still.
Even closed, my eyes sting
against the jarring flash.
My eyelids press down harder,
the tiny muscles clenched against
my teary, shining cheekbones. 

Then, a hand. The hand
that first molded light into photons,
that first flicked fire to life,
that hand shields me, 
but only for an instant.
It reaches away, comes back.

The glaring light shudders, 
then darkens, 
and becomes a soft amber glow, 
filtered finally by 
a heavy, bronze garment
still being straightened over the bulb
by that hand, now joined by His other. 

Once a blinding blaze,
now only a gentle gleam 
a radiance even
illuminating His hands,
full of love, 
casting fingertip shadows 
on the dust-colored walls
of my heart. 

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