Note: Faure’s setting of the hymn is bittersweet. I wonder about that.
notre unique espérance…
In praise,
the palpable sense of loss.
How the heart – a void –
allows its echo escape
still mystifies me.
The nerves, raw, break –
after formal feeling,
numbness ensues. Too much,
no basis. No sense of
standing, communicating.
The pity of others just that.
Our hopes ours alone,
as what we were is gone.