Unfinished Work:

Wounded, yes, but standing on your own feet

From the earliest days when darkness closeted your baby dreams

Then by the wild boy with a knife.

Pierced where Christ was

Each time you fought with the strength of friends

And your own brave heart and strong soul

Even to love as a mother that wakes in the night,

And the unkindest cut of all, by the hand of your kin

The sweet soul, tethered to your own

That could not find his way out of darkness.

Time after time you went back into battle

You shouldered on

Then struck by the blind bow boy’s many shafts

Once before and once after the alter;

Why is love a wound?

Then, finally, that dark Pitt that robbed the light of your work

Even Hercules had not such labors, nor Orpheus such a quest to endure.

You emotional hero; you conqueror of dark lands

Somehow bringing back the light each time;

A Coelho or the blessed plain Quaker .

You brave wise  soul, you victor from victim, how strong you are,

Veteran of the five battles, your story brings glory to us all.