often shadows draw our paths over
and over
because we know the path so well.
I never fall far from where i landed
the first time gravity made itself known,
as i ventured to far from my mother's arms
of love she gave birth
and of love i still walk
many years past and what do i have
but the chalk
drawings on the pavement of
the church where our sacred hands painted
the sistine chapel
through the eyes of a child
corridors of the past are still wandered
and shadows consume
what is there
but i only see light in the rooms ahead
and i feel as though
my mothers love is still calling
me back inside
as the storm rolls in.
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