EPIC

         II
 

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.




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