Inviolate Life

A woman from the sun, she frees the need
 When a man holds Spring apart from Winter,
With mistaken, dire hope, calling to bleed
 In the light—the soft light—of where she lives,
In which many are one, and each love gives.
 And the man is taken in God’s own deed,
For such be the love he from her receives.

Let me travel, O Lord, though thoughts inter—
 Fere, as I must feel the Cross’s splinter.
Let me travel so, sometime, without greed.
 I can do when in my path of the sun
Windows I open for her, not as done.
 As touches of bright rays light my dark vale,
A blue sky I bless with strength to fail.