Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Braving Her Beauty





We brave the bitter sweet of grief
For love; and do not count Her cost
For darling, it is my belief
Within its counting, love is lost

…and did the Door from here to there
Fling far too wide too soon, my dear
I would return simply to bear
The beauty of Her farewell tear

But we are forward-facing race
Unable to repeat one breath
Philanthropists of gifted grace
 Craving Her from birth to death

Thus, we forge to the Great Unknown
Not for bland boast of stuff and things
But just to feel the gorgeous groan
Of Her farewell on heart harp-strings

© Janet Martin

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