The Young Cornish Woman

I will sing this song I’ve made by hand
To all those who pass by,
And paint with the colors of who I am,
Echoing the silent cry.

Who are you, born so near the troubled sea
On the shore whose jagged edges pierce the sky?
Where, along life’s unkempt tapestry,
Have we met before then, you and I?

How many times has the sun crested the hills
Peering cautiously above the clouds,
Piercing golden against the grey,
And you, seeing, wove the words that I would say?

Fara who I never knew
You’ve cleared the road without a name,
And lit the way, yourself unseen:
With open hands I welcome you.

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3 thoughts on “The Young Cornish Woman

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