You’re not the woman who I once had known.
For then, our universes parallel,
the iceberg in your heart had still not grown
and then you laughed and loved so well.
Abuse you suffered at your father’s hands
has hung itself upon your perfect breasts
while by your prison bed another stands;
and now an anger all your words infests.
But how can daddy’s failure take its toll
in such a way that overtures of love
are crushed and burned up by your frozen soul
(your body just an empty pairless glove)?
“I’m lost,” you told me. “Nothing you can do”.
I will not rest until once more you’re you.
© Alan Morrison, 2013