She saw him being supported.
The procession faded up that dreaded mount.
She picked up the veil that was blown from her hand.
Her beauty was radiant.
Her heart was torn.
Her decision was made for acceptance and survival
She folded her veil and placed it with the other fragrant cloths.
The distant jeers and attacks were fading in her being,
As she continually folded the linen...
and so the Sixth Way of Sorrow was sung in the regardless heart