When she was 16
& saw all the pretty young girls
on TV who disappeared,
she thought of herself.
When she was 36
& saw the same still happening—
their once lovely flesh as cold as ice,
or brittle as ash,
their lovely bones sometimes
never found—
she thought of her daughter,
many years down the dark road,
knowing there would come a day
when she would have to let her go
to find her own way,
praying that no one would be
waiting for her
or happen upon her
to stop her.