Villanelle for Our Time

[gene_i]

This beautiful poem turned into a song by Leonard Cohen was written by a socialist-judge Frank Scott. And despite the Villanelle's beauty, it kept bothering me with its "activist" agenda, starting with the opening "From bitter searching of the heart... We rise...".
I haven't mastered the Villanelle form, but here is my meek response.

The fear is gone. The pain remains.
Stark image focused with a start
Reality with bloody stains
From bitter searching of the heart
The vestiges of hope depart
No turning back, no way ahead
A bitter song, a broken heart
Just left for dead.

In bitter searching of the heart
There is no chance of lucky find
No secret map, no magic chart
And what you see will make you blind
There is no audience, no stage
And yet you cannot get away
There is no turning of the page
It's all to stay.

In bitter searching of the heart
In stately solitude of pain
When sadness gently draws apart
The curtains of the daily gain
There, in the mirror of your soul
I look for tiny shard of mine
'Tis not enough to make me whole
But it's a start