she wears her sorrow like a star
that does not wane: but fueled by loss
blazes beneath denial’s cloak

upon her shoulder glows the seal
of an order secret and singular as Masonry
its members known by subtle signs:
an inattentive eye, a brooding quietude
a wayward tilt of head
a lack of timbre in the voice

she wears her pain as solders wear
their uniforms, suppressing tears
that neither heal nor wash away
wounds made by time’s inexorable sword.

by Hannah Alexander