DEFILEMENT

The Master’s hand slips up the inner thigh

A boy’s short pants do not protection make

he breathes not, still as stone, his groin awakes

fingers deeply move; choke the virgin cry

steal his innocence in a single grasp;

a sensation ever present, ne’ere forgot

a recurring shame, a repeating thought

an unsought lifetime’s tether in lust’s hasp!

To erase is to self-anaesthetize

to walk in stupor, to castrate oneself.

Yet to retain impairs the body’s health

trips up the body’s love, the soul’s great prize.

Only grace can heal the one defiled

when innocence is taken from the child.