O rending memory – I dare not dwell –
‘Tis hidden in the fro;
Though oft-time unbidden ardent zeal
Casts it hurtling to.
To deride, to touch, ignite the pain,
Kindle a wistful burn –
Prevailing need to reach out – regain
The prize for which I mourn.
Inner emptiness will never fill;
Sore ache will not subside.
O hidden secrets the soul can’t tell,
O pain the eyes can’t hide.