Bittersweet was the death that he brought to me,
When chilly was the night.
Dimmed was the light that he stole from me
On that pitch, black starless, night.
Sweet was the promise that he sold to me
When barren lay my field.
Weakened was the seed that he sewed for me
And weaker still the yield.
Peppered was the voice that wakened me
When mildly came my breath.
Subtle were the moves of the brutal beast
Though he quickly set to task.
Salty were the tears that fell for me
When I could not shed my own.
Strong was the soul that prayed for me
To guide me safely home.
Sour was the taste that was left with me
When I analyzed my fall
Merciful was my God who returned to me
And brought me through it all.
By Monica White