A tiny home.
A place of hope.
For a tiny family.
Then they came.
I invited them in.
My garlic pendant of caution
locked safely away
in the jewelry box.
My blindness tempered with
rose color glasses.
I dove right into the shallow waters
of the unknown.
The error of trusting, where trust is,
the lamb upon the alter.
I sacrificed all for the hopefulness
of happiness and normality.
After the war, the smoke of the battle
still lingers in the air.
Choking the life from the lone survivors.
Only hostages remain.
Led on in their delusion of hope.
Like so many Stockholm syndrome disciples.
The sad end of my adventure
into uncharted waters.
Eyes now fixed on a new horizon...
New hope beckons.
Like the morning sun rising.
To light the ebb and flow of life.
And free us from our own self made bondage.
After all, the world is round.
Life is a continuum.
The storms must pass.
Into the clear light of day one must sail.
Right back into uncharted waters.
Lynne FincherSpringarden's Other Poems
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