My heart is heavy with the weight of complicity
And I will weave no more
Where the weft is warped so darkly
And the straw we would have spun to gold
Is straw still at the last
And breaks in my hand
And cuts my fingers till they bleed.
I will go out now
And I will wash my hands in a mountain stream
And I will touch again the face of the sky
And I will touch again the face of the child
And I will leave no stain behind
And I will leave no trace
Sarah de Nordwall August 1999
What a joy it is to look back now and see the beauty of the things that followed. Sometimes the best eyes are the hope that springs from principle.