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On a morning in the winter of her eleventh year,
so close, she, an anguished secret held;
the deliverance from closeted betrayals, she prayed
would not dissipate as did silent tears that fell.
What games were played that she could not reveal,
had abandoned her in that darkening vault
and the invasions, scrubbed raw, no wash could clean.
Thereby, with his partaking, such evils were done,
that a soul so tender was all but destroyed.
The breaking left no choice, but to live or die,
so at last, she cried out for God's sweet grace
and broke the promises innocence made;
an ultimate leap of faith.
"I place these moments in my pocket
to be pulled
at the rush of noon,
the crush of three...
when tears come,
when words must learn to be enough..." MKL