Two sonnets

Well, we're off to Smith's mother's house for a couple of days, so here's a vanity post before I go.

A healer's sorrow

The angel hoped her healing powers could
help bring forth life. She ran to make her way
to where Savannah and Calarus stood.
But in the womb, the babe had torn away
and floated, dying, in life-giving blood.
No dreams of freedom from its foetal world
to elfdom, strengthened there in Ramblers' wood;
'stead flown to Stormy, while its mother curled
in pain.
To heal, her burden needed to be purged
so Bri, with mystic knowledge, from her body forced
contractions, freeing her, to let the bleeding cease.
And Jean stood by, near helpless, as the child emerged,
tears muffling her blessing o'er the still blue corpse.
Now, in the vale of Unicorns, it lies in peace.

A mixed blessing

Although her needlecraft displayed her taste
in shade and colour, Jean was unaware
that her distracted musings formed a prayer
which likewise shone in every stitch she placed.
She'd ached with young Savannah's loss, embraced
as hers the pain she'd seen the elves must bear;
and notions of Mariah's seeming air
of solitude had shaped each line she traced.

So as she sent her threaded needle sweeping
through cloth, so were her hopes for them expressed;
and while the work portrayed a kitten sleeping
on marble tiles, dreams stirred its gentle rest,
for as she sewed, her tapestry was steeping
in longing - or perhaps, the gift was blessed.

Merry Christmas!

the angel Jean - Smith's little elf