If you're awake at four.....

It's time to go now. Don't have to sit and wait.

The pieces never were made to fit. It's one of those crazy jigsaws in which a few essential pieces are lost in the years gone by, with some pieces only waiting for years to come. Either way, don't lose your hair......yes, there is a picture but you can't get all the pieces. You can't imagine how beautiful it is just yet. Don't really know if you have what it takes to see that.

And yet, it's 4 in the morning. The darkest hour is almost here. Everything seems distorted, nothing in perspective. Thoughts, racing through with open swords. Memories, ripping through the lower reaches, where the bleeding never stops. Tears.....are for children. I don't have any tears. They had their day. This isn't day; it's night. And there's no one on this side of the planet. Funny how well you can remember people after they leave. Funny how this all seems familiar; it's all I've known. Do people actually sleep through that hour.....four in the morning?

"The finest hour that I have seen
Is the one that comes between
The edge of night and the break of day
It's when the darkness rolls away."



I was led to believe that my father comes in the morning. He apparently waits for me, with hot breakfast on coals, in the clear, hazy light of morning. By the seashore. I was also told that he's got something to ask...... It's a mighty good thing he comes in the morning....I was beginning to sink. And I'd waited FOR EVER!!!! Can't even stay awake anymore.

This time I want no words. No more thinking about it. No more waiting. I'm ready now. It's time to take my father's hand. It's time to have breakfast and look forward to the light of day, and another. And another. Always. And it's time to look into his eyes, and say YES. To anything he asks. AND FOR MY OWN SAKE, DO IT!!!

It's time to leave the pieces to themselves. I've got to stop making them fit - look, see my hands. That's blood that's stopped to hurt. I don't remember any hurt. Funny!! Must have hurt sometime - that looks nasty now. But I can't remember a thing. And look here - that's clotted. Dried up. THAT CERTAINLY HURTS now....

Those pieces; if you look at them for what they are, there are sharp edges you can't play with. But I don't remember those edges; they just seemed nice to hold and have. Can't even remember when the toy broke and the pieces began. I have to tell myself the truth and stop lying - they're all I have and I have to give them up now.

My father says I don't need my toys anymore.

Gotta sleep. Don't wait up for me at four.

Evening. The Fourth of May.

The great abbey was visible through the trees, still, serene, unmoved in the soft evening light.

"A few minutes and I'll be there", Somerset thought.



Amazing, when it's all over.....how little time there is to think about it. Lay down arms, lay down arms.....tomorrow is another day. If tomorrow comes. We never have time to think through our low moments.....life never eases up.

Ride hard. Ride hard. Edward looks for me. Edward? Actually saw Richard riding off after the fleeing Lancastrians. It matters little - here's the abbey. Refuge. The lap of God.

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What a lovely evening!!! See how the light plays on the grass. The sun gently soothes wounds to bring healing.

Slowly, painfully, it all comes back as the wounds are tended - we were so hopeful today!! Exhausted, but hopeful. We all knew this was the day....when it all ends. That upstart Edward would face his treason today!!! Our beautiful, wronged Margaret......would smile. In many, many years. The wrongs of many years - righted for ever at sunset.

Why had we to fight? We could have waited, slipped away.......to lie in wait another day. If only we had made it across the Severn! Why did Wenlock not follow us? It must have been treason.

Now it's over, there's nothing left, but to wait for what tomorrow brings....Margaret, bound for ever, her spirit broken, never to hold her head up again. Prince Edward - cut down. Youthful hope - crushed like a blood-red rose. King Henry - God rest his soul - he would be released. For ever. But he would be king no more. His blood - poured out like water. Never again would his blood course through a king of the realm.

And what of me? Somerset mused. Must get across the Severn. Must find Jasper. Must not give this up. There'll be a new day, a new battle. Edward must die!!!

As evening fades away into night - the last Lancastrian day ends. A bloody entry in the portals of history. At the abbey, the sun sets - over a few red roses in the gardens.

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Two days later...... more blood.

The abbey's closed now - to forget, if possible. To forget that men could come to God for sanctuary, and be spurned. That men could seek refuge, only to be dragged to their deaths. For centuries, the abbey stood - a refuge. A safe place. Hallowed portals, where many entreaties poured out age after age, many million dreams...asked of the Almighty.

Now....blood lay on the stone floors in great crimson knots. Could not be wiped away. Grim death clung to the cloisters. No one came to pray. For many a year. The tide of blood had not ebbed. Somerset....lay headless in the town square.

Today, the abbey stands. Men still come to pray - for ageless things. Not for mere roses. Do they remember that bloody May evening so many years ago ? Perhaps not. Most don't.

A few red roses.....grow in the gardens. Some white ones as well. When evening comes, the sun still shines on both.