THE STRAY
Once more, defeat insists, conveying:
"When will you yield?
For time keeps straying,
and year with year is sealed."
Yet in the weight of self-denying
something inside keeps on defying—
to loose that shard of fragile light,
to loose it, softly out of sight.
***
And so events return, repeating,
and mirrored fates keep on competing,
and still, still not…
What to allow?
Till God shall ask: "Why all this striving,
so bare, surviving?
It slipped away,
and life has gone astray."
***
Perhaps for penance all was taken,
and grief the price I can’t awaken—
and even hope’s futility,
in vain, will find its destiny.
And simple longing cuts each hour,
till fewer heartbeats hold their power,
and less, and less…
What was my life?
Then will declares: "This loss, though bitter,
is fitter
for understanding.
For none of trials were landing."
***
Yet my refusal still is shielding
the truth that mercy could be yielding—
to grant myself the sweet reprieve,
to grant my anger leave to leave.
And with surprise, all is revealing,
and now the world stands open, healing,
and faith, and faith…
is still alive!
Author: Veron
