state of confusion
Lady of the Light
She was always the Sentinel
She knew this from the start,
Guardian to her one great love,
Mystery of a womanís heart.
Long days and bittersweet nights,
Wind whips at stone cold walls,
Isolation her companion
No comfort in these dark halls.
She doesnít really mind the cold,
Or the ninety stairs to the light
To tend to whale oil reserves,
Standing guard on foggy nights.
Her love is away on a ship at sea,
She waits for its arrival,
Listens to the fog hornís moan,
Worries for their survival.
The wind howls, seas are high,
She looks again and again,
No sign of the ship by sunrise,
She hurries to landís end.
Into town, now gathering,
They all ask, ďhave you heard?Ē
Hope and faith uniting them
But hours pass without word.
The Brother James, lost at sea,
Husbands, fathers, and sons
And when itís over they tally
The number at sixty-one.
She feels at fault in some way
The one trusted with the light,
Now the years pass by, but still
She dreams of him at night.
One day the light did not burn,
No one was tending it you see,
The lady of the light was gone
To rejoin her man of the sea.
© July 1999 Corinne Bailey
[This message has been edited by Corinne (edited 06-19-2000).]