The boy’s still waiting by the door
is this my cross or my own war?
Our mother rests my weary soul
soothes the aching, God-shaped hole.
With a joyful heart I’ve learnt to bear
the pain I was always meant to share
Even through mind-bending lies
“Non Io, ma Dio!” my heart still cries
Even as I see the light
and to my blindness He’s given sight
to where I was wrong, how I was right
I still dream of her in white.