What is it about alleys
magnifies fear?

Is it the reflection
of inner passages,
those narrow, dim lit
years, when despair
echoed endlessly?

Days I forgot
to look for light,
imagined none

discredited the truth
that glory dwells
even in dark alleys.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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