No Exception

The heart makes no exceptions for

The love that makes it whole,

But whether one can live with it's 

A question for the soul.

She grew up in a Quaker home,

Content with Quaker ways,

Until she saw the wider world,

Her calm began to craze.

The world at large was violent,

Especially in those years.

The fires of revolution were

Fed by hot rage and fears.

Yet soft and gently she would go

Relieve what pain she could,

Nursing wounded patriots,

Like any angel would.

He was a man of Scottish birth,

Remade a Mohawk brave,

Scarred by life and loss of love,

Stability his crave.

He left a boy, returned a man

Still with a steadfast heart.

He did not search for violence

But warred if it should start.

It rubbed him raw if he should kill,

But kill he would at need,

To save himself or family,

But never crossed to greed.

Their paths kept crossing, back and forth,

Their friendship grew to love.

He felt her far too nice for him,

His wolf to her fair dove.

He also questioned her good sense

When falling for this man.

But fall she did, because you know,

The heart drives it's own plan.

She knew the group she worshiped with

Would turn their backs for good.

It happened once before, because,

With patriots she stood.

Our Quaker girl, of English stock,

In midst of revolution,

Sought her heart and will of God

To find the best solution.

She saw her buck-skinned, tattooed man

Embracing her in love,

And felt the puzzle pieces fit,

As though moved from above.

She felt the spirit move inside,

To grant her peace of mind,

Allowing her to act the wolf,

And guard her man in kind.

Richard Higley © May 12,2015