Doubting Thomas

The lifeless night, lies inside
the cage of the soul, afraid to fly.
Perched in pain and emptiness,
crouched beneath the weight of loneliness.
Time-the cruel enemy of emotional weathering,
tricked and jested by the hope of love.
So terrified to ride upon the wings of peace.
The soul asks, does this exist?

Yet, the small call of a dove,
transcends this tormented state.
Calling out to the battered soul-rise above.
Does the victim hope to feel elated?
Trust one feather to the winds of hope?
For hope is all that keeps the dying soul alive
And hope arose out of the lifeless night.
Break open the door, bend the bars.
Raise the head, unshackle the cowering.
Kiss the dead soul, until it feels more
Believe in hope, and fly once again.

Delsia Marie Hall