For
Her
When I can tell my story without tear or ache,
In prose that ceases my heart to break,
Is it not my road to trod,
To find the one who has lost her God?
I see her beneath the waterfall
Where tears pour down her injured soul.
The tear-stained one is sadly dressed,
I slowly sit by her and rest.
My dear one, do you want to tell
The story of your piece of hell?
For I have all the time it takes
To listen to you as your heart breaks.
We’ll gather each and every piece,
We'll stitch them back, we will not cease.
Forgiveness you do not need to seek,
For nothing wrong did you do or speak.
I see the garment of shame you wear,
It does not fit your frame, my dear.
Whoever said it was your dress,
Told a lie, caused your duress.
We will fling it far from here,
Your brand new dress will hold no fear.
For you will wear your lovely worth,
No guilt, no stain, just your rebirth.
But for now, we will sit awhile,
For I have come this many a mile,
To listen and to wipe your tears,
To help you bid goodbye to fears.
To invite you when your faith returns,
Come near the fire that ever burns.
The fire removes the chill in bones,
Returns light to eyes where it has not shone.
When in worth and dignity you are dressed,
I’ll watch you rise from your sad rest.
And walk the road where you must trod,
To find another who has lost her God.
Very nice. So heartfelt.
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