House of Light

She lives in a house of light
But keeps her eyes tightly closed against the glare of Truth.
Like a small child, she thinks that if she can’t see the light,
from behind her hands as she hides,
That it doesn’t exist.

She lives surrounded by truth
But stops her ears so that it is muted
and almost indiscernible
As if ignored truth ceases to be
thus allowing her to choose another.

She lives among people of light,
But from her vantage point
She sees their transparency as a deficit
Some things are better kept in dark closets,
away from illumination.

Still, light shines in this place
And its primary colors,
Love, mercy and truth
Shimmer off the walls.
They peek from the books on the shelves
And soar in melodies of praise
They resonate in conversations
And hover in whispered prayer.
How much joy she would find
in simply giving in to them.

Oh Lord,
Take away the blindness that keeps Light at bay.
Gently pull her hands away from her eyes
And whisper the truth of Your love to her unhearing ears
And let her see and hear only You.


Kay Stringhm 2001