People of America

For my hurting nation, I still hope.
God bless,
Morgan
 
“People of America”
 
Let us hold our hands high above turmoil
like waving autumn treetops in a storm.
We will weave our colors together into new understanding
of love that beats as deeply as giant drums of change
in the mountains we must climb.
Hand in hand, we will share faith and hope for what waits
at the top where our people, our nation,
dance like stars beneath an open sky.
 
 
Creative Commons License
People of America by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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wings will come

In times of turmoil, I am comforted by the psalmist’s words: “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul….” (Psalm 23:2-3) Restoration sometimes comes through transformation.
 
God bless,
Morgan
 

“wings will come”
 
it is invasive and clings
    around me, a constant reminder.
trapped: changing and no way
      to chew free of bindings 
            I spun myself with wishes and choices
         that I never knew could lead here.
but in the gauzy darkness i
know the wings
    will come.
 
you have been hoping for your own day
         in the open 
     for even longer than I have.
I cannot see you anymore,
     but somewhere in your own cocoon
  you are growing colors like 
      Arizona sunsets
that are outlined with your bold resolve
     like an inked sketch of
     your future.
 
let’s meet in the air,
you and I.

 
 
Creative Commons License
wings will come by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.