by Rachelle de Bretagne

Created on: April 10, 2009   Last Updated: April 28, 2009

When praying to my God for his attention,
And asking why these things should hurt so much,
My past was catching up and needed mention,
I felt that I was somehow losing touch.

"Why me?" I prayed for simple understanding.
"Why me?", I asked, had I deserved my fate?
Why was my life so hard and so demanding?
Help had eluded me and come too late.

Then somewhere in the mists of springtime's magic
Amid the cobwebs hung in drops of dew,
It seemed perhaps my life was not that tragic,
As I thought of love, and turned my thoughts to you.

For even though you died so young, such treasure
Such wealth of love, you left within my soul,
And though my past had hurt, I could not measure,
That ability you had to make me whole.

God answered with the dewdrops on the petal,
Of every flower in Spring upon your grave,
My heart should be content and it should settle,
For the warmth of love and comfort that you gave.

My painful past is what makes me complete,
Appreciating everything I do,
I will not lose, nor settle with defeat,
For I have found my purpose, thanks to you.

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