loose the leaf
that has not love
would scorn the bitter ivy
 to thrive within
the autumn wind’s distress
take of hands
the soft heart
feathers
round the damaged soul
when mattered once –
the whole of one
to love

bless the wrongs
of suffered right –
wisdom surely come
to claim
the lowly wanderer again
bear the wings
of angels –
to fly our spirits home
forgotten now the leaving
to atone

dry the tears
and heal the hurt –
bloom these gardens new
with flowers
of remembrance to our name –
sprouted from our sorrows
nurtured by our sins
forgiven us the weeds
that right
our stone

. . .