She loved, and she wept for those she loved.
They hurt her
But she still loved them
They humiliated her
And she held her hand out in friendship
They hated her
And she had no hate to spare them
For no hate harboured in her heart
For this she paid dearly; while they tore her from her high place and scratched at her skin
She wept for their hate and wished to take it from them
O, how they hated her pure heart,
With which they could not compete
So they sought to end its love
But she loved on
So they finished her
And from those last hours in which she knew her death;
She loved them still
That heart without hate
How pure it was
How short it’s coming was
That heart so pure was not meant for this world of men.
Face without a name
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-heart-without-hate/
