The Reader’s Woe

Burdened by the unshed tears

Of the many passing years

Which, though not my own, appear

Just to wring my soul.

Stories make my heart a bowl

Wider than the sea, and full

Of the unshed tears, the toll

Paid by broken minds.

Knowing sight, I fear I’m blind;

Feeling lost, I try to find;

Setting free, I grieve to bind;

See that I’m not there.

Barriers will shut my care

Out of worlds and stories where

A touch, look, or gentle prayer

Might turn back the years.

‘Pon the page my aching tears

Fall, and trembling with fears,

My heart calls to help the dears

Who have touched my soul.