What a Waste

Blind from birth she saw the light, but no darkness in her soul, broken, guided, hands outstretched but her faith had made her whole. Self taught and skilled with hook and thread her handicap no bind, plus literate, she learned by rote, and knew her worth, her mind. Child of parents Protestant, eagerly took the word, paid pennies to the readers of her Bible, gladly heard. At odds with the high Church on points doctrinal she was tried, sentenced to hang over the flames rope maker's daughter died. Thus cruelly taken in her prime, her age just twenty two, her Martyr's grave unknown, but place of death now given to a Church of the religion that she'd found herself at odds in a time when gross intolerance blocked so many paths to God. R.I.P Joan Waste of Derby, 1534-1556