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A Truth we must grow to Know

There was a certain sorrow that consumed her. Her eyes have lost their luster.
The color of her face was gone, a pasty white has taken place, that once was a rosy face.
It took her months then years to move beyond her tears.
Now she lost her greatest treasure in her deepest fears.

What was the culprit of her broken heart, a loss so deep has she fallen to sorrow's keep?
She hears the voice of compassion that arrives in a peace-loving fashion.
Mending wounds, and healing scars, and showing her light of a brilliant star.
A piece of hope from afar.

Compassion brought back her light into her eyes that held the pitch of mournful sight.
No words could help her rise
   only comfort was the warmth of the silent wise.
In time the color returned to her face, she felt compassion's grace.
In her heart a warmth returned, in her mind, the truth's fire still burns.

Yet, her soul accepts the flame when compassion speaks her name.
There are no thoughts of the petty blame for the loss that became so untamed.
She saw the shadow lift away when compassion became a gift to pass through sorrow's door
when hope found her need for her healing seed to ease her cold dismay.

(The winding river of life can bring joy as well as strife, but we can not travel against the flow
We must travel where life will go, A Truth we must grow to know.)

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A Truth we must grow to Know