© W. Scott Grant
April 14, 1985 5:55 pm
She started young and innocent, as many of us do
She knew too much, much more than innocent
Her clock ticked love, with the spring
She loved her Christmas, dance and music.
God watched her, she was a child
Then she grew up ~ too quickly
He was an evil man, terrible
She though him typical of all men.
She wrote a universe in poetry
She wrote of life and death and pain
She wrote of love and hate
Especially of hate ~ for him.
She hid her pain, but it was there
The poems, the pain, are one
She wanted to love him, to hate him
She cried from her loneliness.
But God had said to her
In a vision of crystal gardens
“The truth of love is eternal”
She knew the pain would end.
Now she has come to know love
Her soul one with another
The hurt and pain going away
Never, God, never to return.