Sorrow Smolders Slowly
I stand before her marbled form now damp with morning rain
as dawn's first light shines bright through silver-threaded raindrop pearls;
Too short her days of life, and filled with such a depth of pain -
I want to hear her soulful song and brush her golden curls.
The blood of my own blood, this child forever gone from me;
What force from hell or God above has taken this young girl?
Assassin Death did come at night in its brutality;
No more she'll smell the heather-hill nor dance or prance or twirl.
To ponder what dark fate or flaw found wanting in my soul
Allowed the maddened moon that hangs above the crimson tide
To sweep my sweet young child away and leave this gaping hole
In all that I found holy here: What God have I denied?
In solemn sadness I now stand above her mottled grave,
I weep no tawdry tears nor do I feign forsaken grief--
My tears, my grief, my pain are for this child I could not save,
Though sorrow smolders slowly it shall never smolder brief!
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