The Night

Her cry was like the tears of a burning candle

Battered by the hands of darkness

Her flame they stifled into the horizon

With blows she got that brought her sadness

The hurt was the death of a light

Where shadows no longer existed

And silence was like a prison

As secret as though she hides the night

For if words linger hands of bricks will stone her

So her body as silent as a stone

Sleeping with the enemy in her grave

Hoping darkness will not crawl upon like a spider

For hope was stars like silver in the sky

Throwing light like falling dew

She knew that her joy might never die

Remembered happiness like a blossom of sunshine

“In respect of abused women”

“If any man walk in the day,

he stumbleth not, because he seeth

the light of this world. But if a man walk

in the night, he stumbleth, because there

is no light in him.”

John 11: 9-10