[This is a fourth in a photo series exploring human trafficking through the imagery of trees. For the previous images, click here.]
Flame flashed bright darkness, yielding barren isolation, that was wrapped around with some small and fragile hope, and then . . .
. . . looking at a light that was broken, whose shade is rusted all around, I slip slightly and see light enter the top of my view finder. Chilly with dawn air, I was out to photograph a door with peeling paint. A door aged, unused, reworked over and over, but still an opening, still accessible, still available. I sought out an image of hope. Instead, I found something worth hoping for. More than a glimmer of possibility, the sun rose up and burst its light on those branches. Yes. Some lights go out. Some trees get cut down. And. And some Light shines forth like new day. Some Life overcomes. Some hope testifies to things we can not see in the darkness. True things. Lovely things. Powerful things.
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