When dark crawls small <br />around the throat, <br />and soul-stones grind both grey <br />and shiver-slow, <br />and tears glass-freeze <br />before the words, <br />and flow seems ebb, forever more... <br /> <br />just one warm word <br />like a candle glow... <br /> <br />and sunrise sings <br />in sky-splashed flames, <br />and millstone lifts <br />and breath is free, <br />and sun-drenched tears dry <br />with soft-healing balm, <br />and words surge boundless, skywards, wide <br />and ebb reverts to blessèd flow. <br /> <br />(7 March 2006)<br /><br />Diana van den Berg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-difference-made/
