You rode the harsh storms in silence
a warrior with lips pursed tight
Tresses, parted in the middle
A white blossom behind your ear

In your bare hands are held tightly
Strings and rags, age-yellowed and worn
Your eyes, a veil of pain endured
In the hushed dark nights of conflict

Hunger is just one more worry
Your weary mind cannot indulge
Like the sadness that hung heavy
At your hearts door – unsatisfied

Through it all, you rise, soul intact
With collected strength, weaving dreams
Piece by piece, patch by patch, joining
A patchwork of life: full and true

Yldara 201007808