Inside child grieving, innocence taken away,
stolen from trusted hands that feed her;
Unprotected by flesh and blood, betrayal
by those she loved with passion, with heart,
they were the heart and soul within her,
yet there is death of inner ruins from tainted tree roots.
Alive, breathing shallow, occupied by fear,
disassociating from vivid imagery of connected fate,
she stands in avoidance of trauma past and present,
as emergence will trigger wailing violent screams
deep into the dead of night, like dead waking the dead,
yet periodic bursts of light sparkles hope from bleak.
Upon me a scared and loving child stricken with unthinkable pain,
granted, a hailed survivor, courageous and sincere,
so much love to give from a heart brutally halted at will.
I listen closely, as she calls out for a caring touch,
need for snug embrace, still, to ensure comfort of being,
endured, an endless fight for freedom to escape the nostalgic perpetrator.
Paul Hickey
11-20-11
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