The Beginning:

Darcy was born as an unwanted child. Her mother hated the sight of her from the beginning and tried many ways to dispose of her ...but something, or someone, always stepped in. 

The starving cries of infant child

Fell not on kind, compassionate ears

Yet as her breathless whispers fade

An angel comes to calm her fears

Embraced in arms that held her close

She spurned her brush with death, morose.

This child, whose end was hungered long,

By mother’s want of freedom’s gift

Was given life by blood of blood

A guardian angel’s temporal shift

And drawn into their loving care

She flourished and endured there

But saviour’s strongest years had passed

And twilight years were but a few

The tiny child once more alone

Her future had to start anew

Handed down through kith and kin

 Her mother, lost to a life of sin.