By Shellymarie Lucas
Peace is a state of tranquility,
A mindful state,
A quiet place.
The trees may rustle
The leaves will fall,
The flowers wilt,
But it will always be there
Holding its arms out
To embrace the one who does the work.
The one who crawls through the muck,
The gross pain that comes with confusion
And Feeling lost.
The feeling of hugging death as you gasp for air,
As you reach for the sun
its warmth inviting.
Peace waits for the one who doesn’t stop until they have arrived.
Peace waits for the one who can find the light
Though blinded by the darkness that envelops them.
Peace is there, it is with you, in the darkness,
In the blind feeling of broken pieces
In the deep water that tries to drown you.
Peace is there,
It is waiting.
It holds you up,
It carries you
And one day, when ready, peace will be visible
And it will embrace your soul.