To the Woman Who Doth Bare Her Shame

I wrote this after reading the Scarlet Letter.

To the sparrow branded a fox,

her cub thus named the child of mist.

To the man who hid his shame,

rigid letters burned in red flame.

Wilt not thou horrid man cease to torture such a burdened soul

or can no mercy be found in the eyes of one who had been so wronged

Where can forgiveness be found for this twisted tale,

is it yet fate that would play such a cruel game 

or is the the lustful passion that burned an unholy flame.

Death cannot come but softly,

it creeps about my window and begs me so.

Burned my curse in flesh and harsh symbol on her breast.

Am I forever a symbol of my sin and will die in eternal flame?

Hath you not heard the pounding on the door?

How my soul should weep forever more...

Scarlet was such a letter that became my heart, 

blood poured out and never avenged.

Finally dear husband, my debt repaid to thee.

Not on a cross that was deemed so holy 

but in my repentance now no more yet I live. 

Author's Note

This was an assignment for one of my classes - sorry that the rhyme is not consistent enough through out the poem.