Blind to Light

by Yolanda Lichty

We’ve played the game
So long we do not know its name—
Reverted eyes downcast
From all the souls still walking past
Our shriveling consciences,
While, trapped inside
Our souls, an ember slowly dies.
Laodiceans, we
Fall out of love as rapidly
As Jesus broke the tomb.

Fan the old flame,
The Son, Who in His Father’s Name,
Mud-patched the blind
To bring the shame to mind,
Before the healing light.

From the edge of a riverside Southern Ontario village, Yolanda enjoys rambling in nature; assembling and eating food; capturing The Word in pen, photo, and song; studying history via graveyard and story tellers, both live and dead; and practicing Socratic questioning on her grade seven students.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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