Eyes stinging
From the salt of her tears
She sought solace
To allay her worst fears
What brought her to this point
Had her words been that obtuse
Clearly misunderstood
The reaction had bordered on abuse
The old church beckoned her
From the darkness of her soul
She entered quietly, slipping into a pew
Struggling to keep emotions under control
The silence was a medicine
Strengthening her muddled brain
The polished wood and architecture
Seemed to soothe her pain
With her head bent low
The tears she did release
Feeling the protection of this place
Wrap its arms around her offering peace
Her body shook with emotion
Sadness was overwhelming
The pain in her heart
Mercilessly unrelenting
When spent of sorrow
She allowed the silence to fall
Enveloping her body
Like a prayer shawl
Stepping into the aisle
Her hand rested on a marble column
Finding it smooth and comforting
Not austere or solemn
Walking towards the altar
She felt a presence beside her
There was no one there
But she knew it offered succor
Drawn to this sanctum for a reason
Of this she was sure
The weight on her shoulders
Was no longer there
Christine Bolton
