Wednesday, 18 November 2015


Wounded by the failed abortion,
Of which she was yet unaware,
She grew in a nest wedged
Between a rotting branch
And a leaning ivy.

Yet a poor father is still
A father – even when distant
In a penitentiary; how good
That over all, secretly, watched
One she would know as Father.

The branch broke,
The ivy collapsed.  But soon
Grew to a new bole
On which to lean.  Slowly its
Branches spread over our heroine,
Its leafs shaded; it became home.

Serpents struck.  The green camouflage
Wilted before her.  The abuse
Left her soul gravid with
A cancer of evil cells
Replicating confusion.

That pathetic ivy granted
No shade, no hiding place,
Meagre refreshment.
It clung to the false tree.

The Observer of men
Observed.  He understood -
He waited – in divine wisdom.

Post more, or delete? - up to you. 

1 comment:

I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!