She will not fear

She will not fear the harvest failing now,
Nor the low tide that ebbs about her feet.
There are no fruit upon that withered bough,
Only the slow passage of life’s retreat.
For all that’s gathered now and what was lost,
She will not lose nor ever hope to gain.
There is nothing left but to count the cost,
And dream what if, and do it all again.
She who held herself against every blow,
Of the great orchard that would never bloom.
Within her grieve and in her wordless woe,
Lost in her dreams and of her silent womb.
She is possessed now but with the long years,
Who once was loved but now has naught but tears.


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