Prayer Closet

There is a secret staircase I

spiral down, when the front

stairs feel too exposed. In

the darkness of fledgling hours

I retreat. Tracing your love notes

with heart, soul, and mind. Sipping

the earthy tea of you testaments. Conversing

together like old friends. Turning over to you all that

I am.

Allowing sunrise to color in the black and white outline

of your form. Loving because you first loved me.

Published by

Karisa Moore

I lost my son to suicide. Each day since, I commit my day to turning the page and continuing to write my story. There is no deeper grief, but I know too, that there is no greater hope than bringing life out of death. I offer each page to you as a testimony that there is hope for abundant life!

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