A withered, battle scarred hand reaches into the sky hoping, praying, to find even a small portion of faith to pull down to the earth. To rebuild.
As if as an answer, tree branches part holding their pose and the sun delivers a soft warmth gently caressing our cheek.
And suddenly we know, that yes it will be alright……someday, just not quite yet……but someday……
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies