Karen page is a keeper of lists
Holder back of tears while under duress
Keeper of hearts
More usually kept
Under kevlar suits
Or skull blazoned vests
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Intrepid reporter
Holding her own fate
With two hands
Facing the darkness
In the bowels of this city
In the depths of the one man
She found that she couldn’t do without
Karen Page is finding out
Just what finding out might mean
Just what holding on might bring
Just how deep these waters run
Drawn like Icarus towards her sun
Piecing together news stories and broken hearts
Holding together these broken parts
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Here in the long shadows of his sacred graves
Here alongside the memory of those he couldn’t save
Here at the crux of the matter the point of pain
Holding on, grip stronger than steel, tears washed with rain
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Karen Page is a finder and keeper of lost things
Bloodied yet unbroken whatever the storm brings
A compass, true North for the soldier who’d lost his way
The answer to his question, she’d no need to say