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.

A loss,

A mourning.

Her precious gem,

Her jewel,

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.

What next?

Pile high the dreams on funeral byre

And let them float on down the stream.

Released.

Good-bye.

Empty-handed, return.

Now what?

Wait.

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.