Thursday, July 13, 2017

Bereft...





When love dies it withers joy’s sail
That wafts like a song on the breeze
The green of field and fell turns pale
As a wasteland bereft of trees

And hope that tuned glad heart’s desire
Is snared in a noose, so it seems
The eye, a hearth without a fire
As it stares on the ash of Dreams

And where home rang with laughter, oh
A house, dark, cold and hollow, mourns
For days before a deadly blow
Killed the roses but left the thorns

No noise can drown the voice of guilt
No slumber grants redemption’s prize
When love dies, the world that it built
Lies like a shattered paradise

And leaves, in longing’s wailing weal
The stab of an unyielding knife
For love, when it is dead will steal
The wind from sails once full of life

One perfect Love alone bestows 
Atonement, healing, only One
We, darlings of His blood-stained woes
...where, without Him, all hope is gone

© Janet Martin


1 comment:

Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.