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
Touching piece.
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