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Flame of Sunlight

an unnecessary paradelle

By Tina D. LopezPublished 9 months ago • 1 min read
Top Story - February 2026
Flame of Sunlight
Photo by Michael Held on Unsplash

What if she had been raised by sunlight, by the gentle pull of dreams?

What if she had been raised by sunlight, by the gentle pull of dreams?

Not the sharpness of slammed doors, not the names that split her seams?

Not the sharpness of slammed doors, not the names that split her seams?

What if she had been raised by the gentle pull of sunlight---

not by the slammed doors, not the names that split her seams, dreams of sharpness.

What if love had propelled her forward, instead of fear holding her back?

What if love had propelled her forward, instead of fear holding her back?

Would she move like someone whole, not always spackling cracks?

Would she move like someone whole, not always spackling cracks?

What if love—not fear of holding her back–had propelled her instead?

Would she always move forward like someone spackling whole cracks?

A fresh coat hides absolutely nothing, but makes things look better!

No voice inside to hush her, no darkness to dim her flame.

No voice inside to hush her, no darkness to dim her flame.

Just the calm of steady breathing, the absence of her shame.

Just the calm of steady breathing, the absence of her shame.

Just the absence of the calm steady flame inside of her-

no breathing, no voice to hush her darkness, to dim her shame.

What if love had always been holding her? What if she had dreams like someone whole?

The absence of the slammed doors, sharpness that split her seams

not the pull of cracks, no spackling, no raised voice, not the names.

Would she move propelled by calm instead of just fear?

By breathing forward to hush her shame, to dim her of her darkness--

inside of her the gentle steady flame of sunlight.

Free Verse

About the Creator

Tina D. Lopez

I’m just a human trying to make it in this world. I write about heartbreak, loneliness, longing, anger, family—all the things I can’t seem to leave alone. Everything I write is about me, even when it’s about someone else.

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    Written by Tina D. Lopez