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I can hear grandma’s voice now, 
“she’s such a beautiful little girl…”

What was it about me that gave him attraction?
Only a sick old man could find sexual satisfaction-
Six years old was I when my innocence was stolen,
my essence once whole, then left in sheer fractions. 
He was the prodigal man, the boy made of golden.

I can hear grandma’s voice now, 
“what happened to my sweet granddaughter?”

From where did he learn such pleasurable abuse?
He was a monster at best, dense and obtuse-
I’ll never forget the first time he pinned me down, 
I was so little and weak as I tried to refuse,
in solitude I wept, forever wearing a frown.

I can hear grandma’s voice now, 
“she used to be such a good little girl…”

I turned nine and still held onto this harm in silence, 
too young to realize the effects of his violence-
I was wounded on the inside and outside had scars, 
turning into a sassy girl full of disrespect and defiance.
He would finish with me then go smoke his cigar. 

I can hear grandma’s voice now, 
“oh you rude girl, my son would never do that!”

She never listened to me as I carried this cross, 
and losing my grandma became my greatest loss-
She turned her back on me, I never saw her again, 
she used to love me, was my absolute best friend. 
His harm broke us, and our relationship paid the cost.

I can hear my grandma say on her deathbed,
“sweet girl, I’m so sorry…for I too was a victim”

Why would she avoid my pain from his pleasure?
I guess she was threatened by him beyond measure-
Oh, I wish I could rip off his hands and throw them away,
my life should’ve been a gift, an undamaged treasure. 
Now I live with the guilt and shame every single day. 

I can hear the Lord say,

“my sweet child, forgiveness is the key, 
rest assured in darkness hold onto me- 
When your fear takes a turn for the worse, 
I pray only My light you shall see, 
always hold My hand and put Me first.


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August 1, 2017
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