She Was Crying Poem by rose flores rosevoc2

The night all calm
in yellow lights, small like fireflies,
a couch firm to hold
a wound open and sore,
she was crying.

She escaped from the camp
In the hour of languish.
He was there.
His arms holding
all the mysteries he could rouse
at that time of sorrow.

Burning through just
somewhere down a field of
thickets, flaming in lace of sparks
like a war, the villagers
running and hiding from
anyone who’d shoot,
she was crying.

She was ready to believe
Him, and go
with him
now - and
forever.