Hues Of Red Poem by April Humason

Beneath the branches, soft and wide,
I walked in light with nothing to hide.
The air was pure, the world was still,
Until my eyes learned darker will.

I did not bleed, I did not fall,
But saw the fracture in it all.
A sudden crack in what was fair,
A bruise upon the morning air.

The fruit was not inside my hand,
But knowledge spread across the land.
A color shook my gentle sight—
Not blood, but wrong made visible light.

Red was not a wound I wore,
But truth I hadn't known before.
The color of a broken sound,
The hush of harm without a wound.

I could not stop what I had seen,
Only feel what lived between
The falling leaf, the startled breath,
The quiet knowledge of what's deathed.

But even there, beneath the tree,
God's presence moved surrounding me.
He saw my shaken, opened eyes,
And did not turn my soul aside.

Now crimson lives not as my shame,
But as the spark that lit my flame.
The color of a heart that knew,
And still chose love, and still chose You.