. For HE Who Is The Light There's been a spell of nightmares since He left. Like Job, I am the likeness of distress. I pine in piles of crumbling stones bereft; deprived of Him I'm worn in wretchedness. When thunderstorms erupt with rage and rain and darkness, like a shroud, engulfs the night, the wind howls like a creature through my brain, with echoes of my plunge from pious height. Afflictions like a plague possessed me whole now pale in dawn's exalted glow of grace; it cloaks a gown celestial round my soul and with a prayer I'm blessed by His embrace. __My faith was flawed when prey to pain and plight, __but now I reap from He who is the light. . . Redeemed Aquiver in the luscious flowered bower, she plucked a plump ripe apple from the tree. A scheming serpent knew its potent power to cloak a curse round human destiny. When thunderstorms soon trumpeted upheaval she shivered in a snowy windswept squall. Then lightning flashed with forty days of evil; the serpent slithered close to cheer her fall. Behold, dawns rise aglow in gold reprise, caressing flowr'ing blossoms, vines and fruit. Exalted light shines bright as darkness dies and sparrows' songs are splendor absolute. Now wreathed with wings where angels harmonize, she flies in prophesied eternal skies. . . Gail Kaye Naegele has worked as a nurse and has poetry published in The Poetry Collective.