We Are Not Exempt

At first, peace feels like an illusion

After numberless days treading water

Our soul muscles desensitized to strain

Stamina built by force of continuous trauma

As we rise and fall and rise again.

Dear soul, do you feel the subtle pull of peace?

The quiet hope waiting just around the next bend?

The safety net ready to catch your fall,

After the relief of survival settles in?

Peace tiptoes through the back door of our suffering

Encircles us unexpectedly, catches us off-guard

Breaking down our defenses with soft reassurances

That we are safe to breathe, we are still alive,

And it takes time to begin to earnestly believe

That in a world of shadows and downpours

There are also strands of lights shining with peace

And we are not exempt from light, dear soul,

We are not exempt,

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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