Ince St. Child
by Michael R. Burch

When she was a child
  in a dark forest of fear,
    imagination cast its strange light
      into secret places,
      scattering traces
    of illumination so bright,
  years later, they might suddenly reappear,
their light undefiled.

When she was young,
  the shafted light of her dreams
    shone on her uplifted face
      as she prayed;
      though she strayed
    into a night fallen like mildewed lace
  shrouding the forest of screams,
her faith led her home.

Now she is old
  and the light that was flame
    is a slow-dying ember . . .
      What she felt then
      she would explain;
    she would if she could only remember
  that forest of shame,
faith beaten like gold.

Published by Piedmont Literary Review, Songs of Innocence, Romantics Quarterly and Poetry Life & Times. This is an unusual poem that I wrote in my late teens or early twenties, and it took me some time to figure out who the elderly woman was. She was a victim of childhood ******, hence the title I eventually chose. Keywords/Tags: child, abuse, ******, fear, night, faith, prayer, screams, shame, beaten