From The Other Side Of Sorrow. Poem by Gillian.E. Shaw

Her name was 'holy' conscience said
and sorrow heaped upon a bed
in vain the search to find by chance
lift her, hold her for their last dance
held hopelessly in crimson time.

A heavenly view: man and wife,
had thought to throw away a life
was only such a little sin
guilt, forever unforgiven
tyranny bleached white finds those condemned.

The other side of sorrow sought
blindly fumbling to find a door
knock and call a familiar name
to light a very steady flame
so famished souls may feed and thrive.

Can you see she's all to me?
Heartbeat and love from the one above
faith has been a steadfast guide
and I along with sorrow sit
among those who have known of it.

Inspired by 'Where there is sorrow there is holy ground'
De Profundis
Oscar Wilde.

France
July 2005