That mourning I went to the woods,
misrepresented by madness.
Life chastened, clouds crept on whilst I cried up on my cross.
I picked obscure rose petals and placed them in abandoned jam jars.
I trampled on my spirit, a quiet cost.
I found an inner peace, like a pardon.
A new diadem excavated encircled my loss.
I danced on wet grass with God, crown festooned.
I grasped but my hand met with a shrub called Berberis.
It taunted me with it's pretty yellow flowers.
Unkempt wasteland dominated, the boss.
The devil kept up his damage, thorns tore at my mind.
I found a wood anemone, growing in the moss.
A delicate flower in a hostile wilderness.
It showed me the beauty of the Holy Ghost.
I sat down amongst the trees, at the natural altar of peace.