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Thunder heads loom as Autumn gardens go dark.
A folded flag gathers dust where it fell on the veranda.
Small respite for the price he paid, she paid, still felt.
Wondering wherein lies the truth of the so called comfort words.
Once she could remember his hands washing her back, not now...
She no longer felt those sweet mornings !
What could she remember?  She didn’t even know!!
But she knew she could never receive comfort from words.
Words hadn’t removed him- -
Words could not save him - - -
Words would not delete him - - - -
A vow - - - -
Words would not defeat her - - - - - - 
So out of self pity she began to write verse.
She wrote about the beauty of the stars, the sky.
She wrote about the mystery of it all ------the why.
Bit by bit she drowned the inner pain and hatred;
all of the bitterness of soul and conciousness - - - -
all of the loneliness, fear and dread
and replaced it with love instead. Love with a tiny thread
of willingness to try to understand that great gifts 
demand great sacrifice.  
Great sacrifice demands our full devotion.
To hurt is not the intention of good- - -
Rather to be forgiving and return good for evil.
To build rather than tear down.  To keep rather than to remove.  
To love again, maybe in a different way - - -at first. 
And then  - - -who knows, maybe the sun will shine 
on this side of town.  

© Charles Henderson 
Jan 23, 2017

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