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, ‚ÄúTake your child upon your lap.‚Äù
And so I do, and what she asks
is peace and joy and nothing to do but rest.