The Beach

I walked the shores of a life; not my own.

I watched the mind of a child become a woman before her body was yet grown.

Ive seen innocence snatched from her lungs before they filled with a breath.

I held her in my arms promising comfort as she experienced the death;

Of a childhood,

Taken from her.

She did not cry.

She just looked into my soul,

With tormented brown eyes that could never be consoled.

It hurt me more than it hurt the child,

Who lost her virginity?

No, more like her ability,

To see the world with untainted vision,

To be open to beautiful and new experiences,

Without recoiling with bitterness,

On the tip of her tongue,

Rejecting the sweet taste of life before its journey had ever begun.

Many times I tried to save the child,

From being carried away by the tide

Of her fear and contempt for the world that had deprived

Her of her chance:

Of being unaware of her mistakes,

To be free in all the ways a child should be.

Our feet kissed the water as I held her hand,

Her pain was enough to rival every grain of sand,

And her troubles lined her face like the seaweed lined the beach,

I tried to claim her attention but her thoughts were out of reach,

Too far for me to bring her back,

So, I just listened as the waves told the story,

Of the woman staring through the eyes of this child.