About Suzette Sexson:

Suzette Sexson is a native of New Mexico. She spent her formative years in Albuquerque where she entertained a love for the arts, theatre, and music. She received a Master of Science degree from the University of New Mexico in the area of Communicative Disorders. She worked as a licensed Speech-Language Pathologist for many years, until fate determined that she pursue creative writing. Although published, The Stained Glass Soul is her first book publication. She is currently working on her second book and a biography for a prominent individual. She recently received an Honorable Mention Award in the rhyming poem category of the 72nd Annual Writer’s Digest Competition that attracted 18,000 entries. She has one grown son living on the West Coast. Suzette resides east of Albuquerque in a mountain home where she enjoys the love of family, friends, and her ever adoring animals.

Suzette is the author of Stained Glass Soul.

Suzette has a personal web page at http://www.suzettesexson.com

I Could Not Know
By Suzette Sexson (excerpted from Stained Glass Soul)

I could not know before I came to this sweet place
How turbulently the waters move.
For when at first I danced on this bright shore,
The birds did sing with such delight;
And dawn and dusk did gently yield to each a common space.
I could not know the lull of this resplendent gift
Would press my soul to water’s edge.
Where had I been alert to my mind’s wakefulness,
I would have seen the danger lurking there;
And requisitioned curious feet away from this dark cleft.
I could not know an empty heart would usher in a rushing tide
And snag this quintessential soul.
Then drive it through the murky depths of life’s elusive treasures,
Forcing it to look upon the sand encrusted hollows;
Where calm and utter chaos subsist side by side.
I could not know when swept ashore that this embittered casing
Would rise and slowly fashion a talisman of gold.
Or steadily weave life’s gossamer threads into a path toward home;
Where from the pummeled earth the saddened eye would see,
The starkly grafted branches of life with death arising.
I could not know that in this place my mind would bow in such despair
That distant shores would seem to me as some dark ruse,
Set hopelessly like steel spring traps from which my mind could not escape.
Yet etched in my celestial dreams are crystal lapping waters,
That douse the world’s most caustic fires, and grievous wounds repair.