There is a child that looks like me.
Years from now still won't be free.
You'll want to rock her in your arms.
Keep her safe from all that harms.
Some things you simply don't forget.
And there is shame that haunts me yet.
The stark reality is this-
I find it hard to share a kiss.
Children are meant for love and prayers.
Not sneaking footsteps on the stairs.
Fear grows where refuge should be.
Hate floats on a toxic sea.
In all these years sorrow still lives.
A broken spirit but strong will gives
reason to find a better way.
This child is loved by me today.