The Hard Moment

 

Woe to the heart that finds herself here.  Woe to her.

Woe to her breath that has been yanked from her chest

Woe to the scraping agony of fear.

 

Woe to her who falls prostrate on the floor.  

Her heart beats slow black as a crow

And she scratches to find the door

 

Woe to her who looks up to seek hope.  

She drenches her skirt with tears and dirt

But it all runs and turns like a kaleidoscope

 

Woe to the one who thinks logic will save. 

Love is best when put to the test

For pain escapes not the fool or the brave

 

Woe to the one who believed in another.  

She knew not the lies were the roadmap to cries

For only the Lord is close as a brother

 

Woe to her that hears her heart scream.  

For what haunts her the most may not be the host

But the vaporing of a dream

 

Woe to her whose nails are dirt black. 

Woe to her teeth clenched in a seethe

Pleading for hope that may never come back.