With words I cannot say:

She hears the siren song that this island sings,
it beckons, like an itch that cannot be pleased.
She cries at night for another land,
there she is awake, no longer afraid or tired of life.
Many miles away, she laments the coming year,
a new chapter of troubles, strife and fear.
The remedy is simple, but not easy as it seems.
Its needle is long and she tries not to see.
Her view dims and darkens and soon she is faint,
she sees not the land and forgets its place.
Only the Cross is in view, that has taken reign.
Things she held on to, now is shamed.
Sold to the King, her life beats again,
but not for a country, but His Kingdom's plan.
She hears the siren song, an old memory,
of a time forgotten, a land she lived and breathed.
No more strife or fear, in this place of peace
A new birth, a fresh start, only on Jesus now she cleaves.

Thank you for saying them for me. You understand more than you let on, and I'm thankful and happy that you've tried and passed. It's beautiful.