but a vessel

A symbolic testimony I assumed, presumed to be the man that showed you otherwise. When she and I locked arms, it would demonstrate to the rest that He was redeeming: none considered lost, broken, or impure. Alas, I aged, awaiting the unknown restoration; I traded my pleasure for an unseen hope. No longer a symbol -- no longer qualified. She sustains the privilege of youth while I father her alone: not a lover or romancer, but a guardian of her innocence. And I wonder, for whom am I her keeper? What man bears the blessing of my tears and scars? Who will take her away once I have lifted her and eradicated my use? I shouldn't covet at this stage; one glimpse in the mirror tells a truer story. A million daughters without an ally: my heart cries for justice and rests here alone.