“Grace! Ain’t she a beauty, at four!” said, Uncle John, next door
That angel, who frisked around, on his heart, in a skimpy frock
“Uncle gives you candies, but you the sweetest one!” he swore
“Come! Let me have a bite of you”, his passion ran amok

Would Grace ever know, what ensued, but “dirty”, yes, it was!
Smirked Uncle John, “Well! What happened! O’ my honey baby!
You loved it too! Had me impassioned!” said with wild guffaws
In a frock amiss, she toddled away, a toy of joy! Broken doll, maybe!

Was that virgin soul, sin-laden? Alas, a maimed tale, of mayhem!
How come, forgot hide-and-seek and tic-tac-toe?
Now she hid from men, and curled her toes, by the sight of them
When mama probed,” What’s wrong?” little woman rejoined, “Don’t know!”

Was she a woman-in-making or a girl-in-breaking or both?
Months after months, splintered and scattered, a ravished soul
Uncle John seemed won, this tug of war, betwixt a girl and a manly troth
He pimped his soul, to a sinful lure! Behold, behold, a beast, on a roll!

A treat, of guilt and threat, to make her fret! Oh, his vicious means!
A dumbed doll, fading flower of fall, dare she, yell to those deafened?
Who can’t read pain, in her barren eyes, world gamely demeans
A child somewhere, in the shade of fear, left, for herself to fend

Grace now eight, still Uncle John’s bait, but why?!
Has the woman not grown, in this girl alone, to dare?
For, she was schooled to stay quiet, bear and belie
A soul that turned to stone, in a cold body, laid bare

Was Grace disgraced, by a man, some “Uncle John”?
Or a culture’s creed, that we all agreed, to live in denial
Grace not the first, nor the last, to play a lust-pawn
In the hands of a monster, alas! Beyond any trial!

Grace now twenty-four, mama of Gracy, who’s four
Next door, lives Uncle Sam, an ogling man, a perverted lout
“Uncle gives you candies, but you the sweetest one!” he swore
Will she succumb? A soul be undone? Will Gracy shout……??

© 2015 Vikas Chandra