The Light Is Not a Solemn Thing, It Shines
For Sarah, who left the Plymouth Brethren, with love
The light is not a solemn thing, it shines
With merry glee and mirthful gentleness
Will not be held a hostage, in confines
Of darkened halls where little ones confess
The sins of fathers that they never chose
Nor be a slave to chapter, scripture, verse
Be boundaried, or fettered in its flows
It is the joy of blessing, not a curse
It isn’t how you said it was. You lied
I ran, and left your lies behind the door
And here I am, and oh, the light is wide
Mysterious, and infinite, and more
A wildly wilful, free, and feisty thing
I wear a ribbon in my hair, and sing
© Gail Foster 26th February 2017
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