Dearest Despair
Dearest despair,
who in yonder moonlight shines upon our dark world,
who in treetops whistles warning of harsh winter to be,
you have come to us as tears,
but have not washed us nor cleansed us,
you have only added to the filth of human hands,
as sowing tears our flesh,
and the climbing of mountains blisters our palms,
but you shall be denied when those you try to control turn away,
and the cheek you try to run down is wiped by the hand of hope,
and kissed by the mouth of inspiration,
dearest despair,
you will show no mercy,
but when you come to us,
I will be the moonlight.
Copyright © Bridget Prewitt | Year Posted 2011
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