I Write, and Having Written, Move On

In her eyes I see a dim light.
That I pray someday will shine very bright.
In her stare I witness an empty gaze
Of a past of pain and ruin beneath a tear-filled haze.
In her eyes I see a damaged soul
How much I wish I could make her whole.
To show her that life can be meaningful, happy and grand
And that she can overcome the demons at hand.
Behind those eyes to me is a world unknown.
It is like starring at a beautiful stone.
And even though I desperately hold out my hand.
She cowers back into her familiar land.
Amongst the other stones that echo screams of pleas.
She can't see that beautiful forest through the trees.
I try to feed her goodness through the gate.
But she doesn't trust the food that is on the plate.
How do I get past this deep imbedded confusion.
And convince her that what she feels is just a painful illusion.
But she turns away and returns to suffer.
Even though I was willing to be her buffer.
So here I will remain at her gate.
Hoping and praying I'm not too late.
To hope one day that she won't hesitate.
To be rid the ruin of that untold fate.