She raises head to heaven,

desperate,

seeking that which has always eluded.

She is bone tired.

Tired of offering,

tired of trying,

tired of having the heart on her sleeve

torn from her grasp,

a pale, unnatural thing.

She just wanted to be loved.

Was that too much to ask?

Too much to expect,

that she could be known

and cherished?

This fragile gift,

this presentation of her self,

is flung back in her face,

a trampled orphan

in a death camp.

She will make one last stand.

She has heard there is a Love,

a Keeping close to Heart,

a Naming, a Delight.

She raises prayer to brilliant skies

and offers one last time…