Photo by Anni Roenkae
Weary days of fear and foe
Deep purple pain just won’t let go
All through the day and into the night
Grief and anger fires burn bright.
My country weeps and cracks inside
Believers pray and mother’s cry
Dear God please hear us as we pray
We are sorry that we act this way.
Deep purple pain upon The Cross
No one else could pay the cost
Let us walk in your Salvation now
and humbly at your feet bow down.
I
Photo by Skitterphoto
The North shore of my piece of sugar white heaven faces the sound (Bay) side of the island.
The three mile bridge stands sentinel guard and my small bay is dotted with white sails stirring my heart.
The bridge that brings me home to my nautical world.
The smell of fish and salt is a soothing balm to a weary girl.
The hermit crabs do a miniature square dance that leads them safely home.
The Sandpipers play hopscotch in the tide pool foam
The Gulls swoop and squawk over schools of fish and bones
There is a different peace on the Sound, the quiet side.
It always feels like the end of the day here where the tired come home to rest.
Like a sweet baby’s coo the waves lap upon the shore.
The “Quiet Side” is what the locals call the back door.
And are happily living and dying on this island right here.
Jill Autrey Dorman 