Oh Henry

I lie upon these stone floors,
Tiny hands lifeless in my own,
And all I see is a daunting future,
One of dust and dirt and bone.

We lay him in the ground--
A mask seals thy stately face--
And I turn my heart to God,
Unsure now of my own place.

And I watch all the people pass on by,
Scorn and malice turned my way.
I stand my ground, poise my chin,
Though dolour refuses to stand at bay.

(Here I cannot spell my past,
Where disappointment and frustration reigned,
Where the children laughed in their spite,
Mocking at my one greatest pain.)

And now the death knell tolls,
Familiar in all its singular glory,
A true and faithful companion
That signals the closing of my story.

Oh King! Oh Majesty! come soothe my soul to sleep,
For day and night pass with wretchéd agony--
The crowds cry 'witch' and 'devil's sow'
And I but seek some peace eternally.

Oh Henry, here I do beg of thee,
Though law threatens to stay my tongue:
Remember thy wife, thy mistress, thy queen;
Remember Anne Boleyn, thy glorious sun.