But love stored up gave me or maybe lent

Despite the pain of anger unprovoked
Suffering, losing , for a while, myself
Your love has  fed my heart  and joy evoked
Gifted  me  a source of inner wealth

I feared there was  no clear way   from the end
I might have dropped deep  with the devils dark
But love stored up gave me or maybe lent
The  vital will, the lift, divine the spark

As we wake up and feel the pain’s descent
Into our breast his chosen  altar stone
The heart so pierced shrieks , makes its own lament
And wishes it were not raw flesh but bone.

Hard to  love again with  knowledge learned
When all our pity in the fire is burned

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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