Shame

When shame has fallen on me like a curse

And scarlet  cheeks  then  decorate my face,

Of  manners   or  real evil , which is worse;

Which casts  a person  out from once right place?

To disappear from life is all I wish

To hide myself beneath a beggar’s cloak.

To eat  soup from a convent’s dish.

As in my own  familial haunts they joke.

Guilt can be expiated and redeemed

But shame  destroys the deepest source of self.

What helpful measures may now intervene,

Cover my shied face,  restore  my health?

Is it only I who see my plight?

Imagined  laughter hides me from daylight.