A baby is born.
Hope handed over,
wrapped in blankets
and swaddled in light.
The baby grows
in warmth and love.

The years go by in flashes
of increasing darkness.
Seventeen years later,
the same child
crushes her knees
to her chest, warding
off the panic
in her blood
and the depression
in her head.

Abused. Assaulted.
Life crashed down.
Disease. Death.
Too much.

The parents stare
in shock.
Where is the hope?
The light?
The joy?
Their arms crave
to hold the bundle of hope
swaddled in light.
Their eyes yearn
to hear the warmth
of laughter bubbling
from lips too silent.

Shadow shrouds
the child,
with her knees crushed
to her chest.
Battle scars much too deep
and past much too dark.