There is a path that no-one chooses
but we will all inevitably
find ourselves there
for the soul remembers
what the mind denies
it winds quietly through fields of dusk
past silent statues
that have forgotten who they stand for
here is where I find tristesse
tending the gardens of grief
extinguishing the candles
no-one else will snuff
she walks barefoot
leaving no trace of her passing
just the sweet songs
of something precious
only half-remembered and painfully soft
I have felt her cradling
my broken wings
and whispering to my broken heart
until even the silence
was weeping for me
loss seems no place for joy
but somehow here in my devastation
sorrow becomes a sacred prayer
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 