Laura Susan Ferriss Kouba

If pitch-black smelled like homemade bread, would we be afraid of the dark?
Each endless pain, the transformation of our soul is higher, sweeter....
Wrestling, reaching, weeping, we think our flesh, our feelings reign,
But, oh, the unfathomable peace that conquers and claims the gold

If pitch-black smelled like homemade bread, would we be afraid of the dark?
Our blinded eyes, thinking always that we, alone, know what is best for us....
Groping in the dark, our one pursuit, to soothe the spirit, to comfort the heart,
But, oh, the blessed assurance of the firm, strong hope.

If pitch-black smelled like homemade bread, would we be afraid of the dark?
Each of us, voyageurs, stepping lightly into the next uncertain moment...
Breathe deeply, find respite in this aroma, we carefully resist

Be not afraid.....of the dark.