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- Where have you gone, I ask again; my memories now lost.
- They stole you, hid you, while I slept—a ransom without cost.
- Your photos burned, your words destroyed, your voice I can’t replay.
- The distance grows between us now, increasing with each day.
- I want to see and talk with you; they tell me that I can’t.
- I long to feel warm in your arms, the comfort of your hands.
- I cry, I call, I wish, I pray, convinced that it’s in vain.
- It’s for your good, they justify; they cannot see the pain.
- Let us go down to make a home wherein our children dwell.
- A garden fresh to please the heart and wondrous fragrance smell
- And let us make them just like us, he you and she like me.
- Then give them choice, watch them partake; the truth shall make them free.
- I’ll visit them when they have left, “Behold, my b’loved son.”
- But I’ll retreat with broken heart when he gasps, “It is done.”
- I’ll touch their hearts; speak to their souls, comfort them and guide.
- I’ll reach past chains and gags and locks, with every ounce I’ll try.
- I do not think you’d leave me here, abandoned and alone.
- I’m sure your captors have you gagged upon your vaulted throne.
- The words you once had spoke to us, they’ve long since now destroyed.
- They make up myths to convince us, your absence a decoy.
- They put you on a pedestal to keep you out of reach.
- Protect your name, or so they say; your purity they bleach.
- But you are strong and wise and brave, far from a maiden fair.
- And heart and soul and spirit shout that I’ve a mother there.