Her small face haunts my days
Eyes wide and cold
Street-smart, alone.
Her smile tentative,
Never trusting,
Need grabbing at my heart.

The face of
Unwanted girl-children
Sold into slavery of men
Before her baby-soft skin
Has covered filled-out limbs,
Or breasts or hips.

Something
Looks out from deep dark eyes,
A wisp of knowledge buried there,
Unfathomed sense of loss.

*/*/*
Upon her bed, in safety’s sleep,
I watch my own beloved child
Whose stardust dreams, so sweet, so deep
Assure her future, bright and full.

Lord, how Your loving heart must ache
At sight of those whose empty eyes
Speak untold pain and hearts that break.
They are Your precious children too.

Formed once in sweet designs of care,
Left unclaimed, and shattered there.

by Katharine Wool Parish
from her book, Papa Rawlings’ Secret and Selected Poems
© 2005 Memoir Gift Book

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