A child’s innocence may be destroyed
By other persons’ acts of cruelty,
By careless words that open gaping voids,
Or violence that leaves psychic debris.
But losses, too, can mar a child’s world
As tiny hands contain such helplessness
And sorrow’s tendrils ‘round a heart is curled
As days of joy become days of distress.
But tender hearts can heal as years go by
As wisdom is the gift of passing time
So too, can one’s forgiveness sanctify
The grief from death, or shame from thoughtless crime.
In ancient sorrow, youth’s wonder still resides:
Let agéd hearts still bless the child inside.
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