Henrietta Pearce


The Circle


My hands burn from the beating
And still they strike
This is the happiest pain I know.

I will cheer your harshest villain
And mourn each of your last breaths
And I will remember us for you.

For you are a spark of light:
You do not assume greatness
But now that it is dark,

The people are noticing.
You descend
They rise

Submitted: Thursday, May 16, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Bits of this have been in my head for ages, and it finally looks vaguely poem-shaped. I'm immensely proud of the person this is about and their achievements, but I'm also suffering from a severe case of anticipatory nostalgia, because the proverbial parting of the ways is looming near. I'll always remember us, though.

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