Sunday, November 4, 2012

Little Light

dirty rags on her feet
and a troubled crease in her brow
with sand stuck behind her ears
waiting for hope not knowing how
she carries a bow on her back
and her arrows are made of bone
and she stands waiting on ships
still lost out at sea all alone
and she holds the little lamp higher
for the lighthouse fell long ago
and her arm is so very tired
and she fears the light she'll let go
and the sea just churns on ever more
while her feet are numb and cold
and the waves play tricks on her eyes
while she waits there growing old
with her sable strands in the wind
and rocks deep in her skirt
she waits with one little oil lamp
and a heart heavy with hurt
so she holds the light ever higher
for the lighthouse fell long ago
and her arm though so tired
still won't let her little light go

by: elizabeth azpurua

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