After light was shed
upon your hurt:

A little scared boy,
beaten and bruised,
abandoned at the
next foster home,
and the next, 
and the next,
abused:
your innocence
stolen, too.
You didn't know better.

I forgave you,
for touching me
when I was seven,
and my heart soared:

it took up
a beautiful Great Blue Heron flight,
wings that seemingly struggle,
to lift the weight of you,
but, miraculously,
you rise up, and soar,
so gracefully,
after the awkward takeoff,
now, you see,
you can fly,
without
that
weight.