In the black of night they come to me.
The hauntings of old have begun.
Memories of hatred and fear
of such evil under the sun.
A tender shoot was I back then.
Blooming in the spring of my years.
I'll never fathom or understand
swimming in a cascade of tears.
Life had dealt me a difficult hand.
Innocence had been ripped to the core.
Shame and misery in my young heart
and I couldn't feel love any more.
Broken and drifting in a haze.
Crushed beneath his weight.
and learning the way of hate.
Children should not have to cry
for safety and peace of mind.
Wee ones needn't have to worry
how love's cruel and so unkind.
These memories of way back when
have left their scars on my soul.
Through grace I somehow made it
though the heartache took it's toll.
written by Deb Wilson for Gail's contest