The Sorrowing - Poem by Leslie Philibert

The stairs ascending, the blinding window sinks to my feet.
Wax and dust in the summer heat,
then a sudden coolness as if in a church.

Standing lost and undecided I hear children,
so I hide in the shadows of a wood-floored landing.
Petals strewn before me wilting,

like the stanzas of a forgotten poem.
Time to withdraw gracefully -
walking proudly no longer I must submit to retribution.