She sits in the shadows,

With memories of light.

Bathed in blackness,

And filled with fright.

She nurses a heart full of thorns,

Her pain made bright,

Rubbing the dark into her eyes,

Like mud to restore sight.

It was and is, a complicated situation.

One that requires profound insight.

The weeping of angels and demons, alike.

In witness of having fallen from grand great heights.

Someday she will know,

Once everything is made right.

And no longer shall she fear,

When the day becomes night.