Regeneration Trees #4

[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. 

Regeneration Trees #2

I recently shared the first in a series I'm calling "Regeneration Trees." More walks have revealed more images and more reflections. Here is image number two:

Not exclusive to victims of human trafficking, when we feel broken, we often feel incredibly isolated. I think of a young girl kidnapped from her home. Separated from her family. Subjected to a life that buries her in shame. She feels stripped of happiness. She feels robbed of support and comfort. The sky feels grey and ominous. Her heart feels barren and numb. 

The very strong ones can shift their perspective oh, so slightly. In our barrenness, our hopelessness, our isolation, sometimes we can sense that the cloudy, grey, ominous sky might have patches that are not quite so thick and dark. Not quite silver linings. Not quite hope. Just a little less grey. Even if we don't quite have the strength to really reach towards hope, we might tilt just enough so that we are open to it, should it deign to reign on us.