There is a terrible wonder
a childlike mystery
wrapped in the word
'Innocence'

for none of us have;

though once,

we did.

and how haunting the notion
as though even lost Eden
still lingered somewhere
on the edges of our
bitter broken hearts



Perhaps
mine was stolen
about the age of ten

or worse
perhaps I sold it
for bittersweet pleasures,
the foretaste of
everlasting ash.

to never again
know the joy of kindly eyes,
or the incomparable inhalation
of that first breath
when the rumors of the sea
become real
to both sight and lung.



Stolen,
or lost,
or sold,

or very simply removed

through the cruel currents
of terrible time.



Yet:

redeemed;
recovered;
repurchased;

if only I have
the audacity
to put myself aside

and yet come

to the crux
of humanity
and history



with the shameful
significant cry

'forgive me'