12/29/2025
Those Who Kept Watch
@ the Pink Light Sanctuary
When she finally slept,
the land felt it.
The Lenape River stayed awake,
moving west to east as it always has,
carrying memory without commentary.
It did not ask her to be over anything.
It simply kept flowing,
proof that life continues
without erasing what has been
It curved closer to the bank,
as if to say:
Rest.
I will keep the truth moving
so you don’t have to.
The trees along its banks ~
ancient, patient, unpersuadable~
held their roots in shared soil.
They remembered her footsteps,
the seasons she survived,
the years she stood when standing cost everything.
They had watched her walk all these seasons.
They knew what it cost her to stand.
Now they stood for her.
The owl took the high watch,
eyes open in the dark,
keeper of thresholds and wisdom
Nothing unseen passed without being known.
The cardinal cut color into the snow,
a red note against white silence ~
a promise that warmth returns
even after long cold for her ancestors are close-by.
The golden jaguar felt the comfort of her body
and answered it with stillness.
Power lowered its head.
Strength chose proximity over force.
It guarded the line where harm once dared to approach.
The wolf turned outward,
back to her spine,
eyes steady on the unseen.
Loyalty without question.
Protection without possession.
A knight who did not need to be named.
The golden doodle kept joy breathing softness into the circle,
tail curled like a promise ~
because no sanctuary is whole
without tenderness that plays.
The black cat sealed the inner gate,
curled by her heart: ancient and knowing,
guarding the places where grief once hid
watching the quiet places where profound loss once lingered.
Nothing slipped past those ancient eyes.
The tabby cats pressed close,
small bodies radiating trust,
reminding everyone that innocence survives
where it is defended.
The white bunny rested in the cradle of her arm
and felt no need to flee.
Gentleness recognized gentleness
and stayed.
As if to whisper:
What they tried to take was never theirs.
The fawn folded themselves into the snow,
legs tucked, necks soft ~
pure as snowfall before footprints,
reflecting back to her a truth
she had almost forgotten:
She never lost her innocence.
It was never erased ~
only protected,
waiting for a place safe enough to return.
Snow gathered without weight.
Pink roses rose without argument.
The land itself formed a vow.
She was not guarded because she was fragile.
She was guarded because she mattered.
Like a queen whose worth was never in question.
Like a sovereign Priestess whose rest
was an act of trust.
They would protect her
not for glory,
not for reward,
not for conquest~
but because love,
when it is clean,
stands watch.
And so she slept.
Not alone.
Not exposed.
Not waiting.
Held—
by river and root,
by fur and feather,
by a living kingdom
that knew exactly who she was.
Pure Love.
🩷🌲🌊❄️
~ Sue Waldman
All text and images are original works. Reposting without permission is prohibited. Please share with attribution.
© 2025 Sue Waldman / Pink Light, LLC — All Rights Reserved
