Summary: Catherine Lancer’s death
Word Count: 300
Night is falling. Its silvery orb hovers patiently amid the lingering twilight: its reign of glory nigh.
The easterly wind blows restlessly through the evergreens, searching always searching, yet blissfully unaware of the tragedy playing out in its path.
But I see her tears. Tears shed in both joy and in sorrow.
I can but look on; it is how it is meant to be.
She has labored so very long: agonizing spasms have hour upon hour racked her delicate frame. Yet her poise and courage have not wavered.
Only one regret, that he had not been by her side, but then he was not to know their son would come so soon.
God’s blessing nestles contentedly in her arms, but as generously as he gives, he inexplicably takes away.
Life silently ebbs; soon her inner light will flicker and fail.
Unafraid, her lips part in prayer. Although weak, her plea is strong and selfless.
I listen unseen, then watch her soul soar burden-free.
I see no tears in the ageing eyes, only frustration and cunning.
His words are brief and hurried as he bids a cold and shallow goodbye.
To follow a selfish act, one that will wound and almost destroy.
A cowardly victory, but I know in time he too will acknowledge defeat.
The brutal truth drives another to his knees, and grief flows unchecked.
Still, his broken heart continues to beat, and for a little, while he will know not why.
Further loss and sorrow darken the horizon.
Like today’s wrong, it will take a lifetime to put right.
And I will stand beside him when that day comes.