A Child at the Beach

Copyright Dec 2005

As she runs along the beach
Her thoughts hurt; out of reach
Her feet dig into the soft sand
She runs; she hides; her life planned

She looks out on the distant sea
Her thoughts lost; where is me?
Why do I have to live this life
The pain cuts like a knife

The buildings stand resolute
Above the beach; their silence mute
The waves crash on the shore below
Her thoughts whirl; everything slow

What would happen; she thought inside
If I just ran to the waves to hide;
If I just let them take me in
If I just let them hide my sin

What would it be like to step away
From this life that held her at bay
To stop the pain and anguish beneath
To belay the misery; internal grief

She continues to run, full speed ahead
Just one step to the right; she's dead
The waves would take her; problems gone
She would not feel the guilt; it is the norm

Why you may ask is she here
Running the beach; terror near
Wanting to end it; wanting to hide
Wanting to take relief in suicide?

Her father molested her for many years
Her father brought forward many tears
Fear was beyond mention; ever there
Back in the car; she knew no care

For she would have to continue on
Hiding, dreading; happiness gone
She would have to deal with her dad
Touching; taunting; eternally sad

For now years on the pain is still there
But now she has found others that truly care
She remembers back; the moment gone
She remembers of this time; forlorn

For if she had taken her life
She would not be a loving wife
Her kids would not be now and here
Others would live with this frightening fear

There would be no tears tonight
She would be forgotten; forever in fright
No one would know what lay beneath
The fear; the awful pain of grief

This poem would not be read to
Spreading the message of grief to you
She would be a tombstone covered in moss
Laying beneath a large wooden cross

Her life forfilled now; many years on
The pain still there, but the horror gone
She worked through what it all meant
And her father now; reported, 100 percent


This poem is inspired by a true story of a young girl (around 12 or so), running along the beach, running from a life of horror, and having to get back into the car with her father, an abuser, and her family, returning to a horror that so many know.

(((((((hugs))))))))

Whitedove