Poem: A Touch
Photo Credit: Tim Mossholder

There is a spiritual being,

Who like not to be touched:

Even when the touch is safe,

The silent present becomes enrage,

And closeness does not seem safe:

This person may be in your own race,

That live by rules, discipline,

Or someone has disgrace, violate,

Wounded within, left displaced:

There is a spiritual being, who can help,

Those who has lost their way,

Need help—to rise above the shame,

The low frequency from the darkness,

Of the shadow, a negative way,

That tries to consumed,

The greatness of what could;

Or should have been—beautifully safe:

Through the lens of a balance being,

A magnificent spiritual race.

Empress Journee