By Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
different it feels
and so it so ought
the trauma is not
sooften forgot
the fingers in places
they weren't meant to be
the forcible stripping
and naked to greed
the eyes
almost soulless
depravity deep
that preys on a child
who hides only in sleep
where monsters forever
thereafter will lurk
and pounce
or creep slowly out
slippery murk
the creatures responsible
may have a lair
the children are kept
much as prisoners
prayer
the one key to free
not the body
but mind
to see
out of blackness
that You always kind
will take us away
from hell
though we remain
in flesh
and in jail
we have Heaven to gain
and we can start now
if we run away from
the pain
of the skin
and bones
scourged
for their fun
I found as You brought me
to You
long ago
whatever falls on me
I still can let go
and seizing You garment
with desperate grip
Your love has surrounded
from evil to rip
I rest in the nest of Your chest
where I ran
and walk
and reach out
succor offer when can
relaxed in Your chamber
rid of any fret
completely immersed
in Your tenderness
yet
I think of the hurt
that some still perpetrate
and I ask
from my penance
for them
open gate
