Shutters

Through the shutters of my soul
sunlight rarely shines.
Her voice demanded obedience,
blocked out the light of childhood.
As I grew older I replaced it with worries.

On this rainy day
in a retreat house far from home
a voice says, “Take your child upon your lap.”
And so I do, and what she asks
is peace and joy and nothing to do but rest.

 

Dian Gillmar
Berkeley, CA