Something died inside
The day he said, “Do not.”
The end of a dream,
The end of her world,
Joy and light slipped into oblivion,
Trampled under the heavy-footed boot of disdain.
She did not cry,
No tears were shed,
Only a sorrow too deep for words.
Her precious gem,
So carefully crafted, loved and cherished,
Crushed beneath his careless words.
Dead, gone, to be no more . . .
A vow? Perhaps.
She’d never do that again—
Not cast her pearl before the swine—
Just keep it to herself,
Not to be shared with him.
Pile high the dreams on funeral byre
And let them float on down the stream.
Hold your apron, Maiden,
And let the Master
Fill your skirts with gold,
Solid, precious, overflowing stones of worth.
No man can crush My words.
They’re not gone, forgotten, disappeared—
They’re there within your heart!
Journal April 2, 2005. A memory healed.