Email Poem

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I have given all I have—
The hush of dawn, the summer’s breath,
The songs I sang when skies were grave,
The strength that stilled another’s death.

Gentle light, the darkest night—
Shine not for me, but for the lost,
Who walk in chains, who dwell in blight,
Who know not yet the final cost.

I stood amid the thorn and flame,
And wore the burden others fled,
And when they mocked my mother's name,
The stars grew silent overhead.

I asked no crown, I craved no praise,
I sought no scepter, built no throne;
Yet still I rose through lesser days,
And carved a path where none had gone.

Rage against the gentle night,
Where soft deceit and silence dwell—
The thieves that robe the just in white,
Then sell their stories down the well.

The bushes hid the mourner’s tear,
The tree’s deep roots drank up the grief;
And time stood still, but none drew near,
To offer hope, or bring relief.

Lord, forgive them—still they know
Not the weight of what they do;
They trade their mercy for a show,
And scorn the love that once was true.

I have loved not them who kill
With glances cold and tongues of lead;
I have loved the meek, the still,
The broken ones the world left dead.

I gave my joy, I gave my youth,
I gave the stars their silver song—
And now I stand in ruthless truth,
Among the dust, where I belong.

Yet still, within the battered shell,
A spark endures, a tender flame—
A voice that will not bid farewell,
A whisper none can quite disclaim.

Let the wind cry out my name—
Let the rain remember me;
I have given all I have—
And that, at last, shall set me free.

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