The Ballad of Grace

By Sean Fisher

Published April 20, 2025

      
She peered out from, with haunted eyes
A scratched and dirty door.
The cobwebs from the alcoved porch
Feathered lightly to the floor.
She glanced around, observed our ties,
And straightway knew wherefrom,
“I don’t…”, she paused, then took a breath,
“How did you know to come?”
The hinges moaned, the flooring creaked,
We stepped into the murk.
Despair and doubt like moonless night,
In encroaching shadows lurked.
The layered dust on writhing pain,
The sense of silent screaming,
Was ready to fasten shackles on
and revel in lack of meaning.
Talk revealed no talk would help.
What more than what she’d done could we?
But somehow, still, the Bishop blessed,
sincere sanguinity.
And slowly, buoyant eyes crept up,
Weathered but determined.
HIS power melted mental film;
SHE drew the heavy curtains.
——
We later learned the awful truth,
What might have happened didn’t.
She had prepared to leave the gloomy world,
In just another minute.
And though it’s true that all along,
Bright daylight was outside,
For her the sun, too far away,
Without Him was denied.
It’s the light within that matters,
Not the light without.
And Christ the light that from within
Can chase the shadows out.