Rememberance Of A Child Poem by Joseph Martin III

For Paula and other survivors of sexual abuse...



Innocent and forgotten one,

where was your polished cradle

and blanket of white roses?

Where was the slow sad music,

one final solemn adaggio

to sing your soul to rest?

And where were the tears,

one for every future memory deprived,

from mourners veiled in black?



There was none of this.

No body was found,

or even reported missing

by those you think might notice.

The ignorant know not the difference

between the living and the dead.



She knows the difference:

In distant galleries of her dreams

she meets her own young ghost,

together they cry.