There lived a Love that sought a soul complete.
She caught one — wholly — in her tight embrace,
Lifted her darling from his mortal feet,
And laid him gently in a web of lace.
The web was torn, and brighter than the Sun,
Her eyes were lit — by rage and righteous pain.
She sought the forts where slavery had begun,
And gave their masters terror. But in vain.
Her sweetheart was not taken as a slave.
He had been mortal, and he had grown old.
Seeing her love would stretch him past the grave,
He chose to face a fate that he controlled.
Upon this secret, spend no further breath.
We dare not let her think to challenge death.
Jenkins Rising 