her linen was fragrant and sweet.
She heard the voices of fury and despair,
it brought her out to see the crowds.
Her beauty was held in terror and heartache,
her features frozen in sympathy and powerlessness.
She grabbed her veil and ran to the poor man,
what wrong had he done?
As he fell under the weight of his sacrifice,
his bloody scared face unrecognisable.
She fell with grace and respect,
he raised his sorrowful image before her.
With dream like elegance she gave her veil,
the weight of human error fell with no remorse.
He brought the veil to his face and soaked the injuries,
the freshness of love and kindness washed over him.
The crowds gathered round the fallen rebel,
he stared at the woman with the veil.
She was frozen in profile, scared to approach the mob,
her veil fell to the land in sadness
.....and the Second Way of Sorrow was sung into the hearts of those who standby and dream.
|Painting by Lorraine Rigby. 2017|