A child remembers
Her heart beats
Synchronizing
With blades of grass
And dying things
Until the raging voices
Scream
She is wrong
She is TOO…
Much
TOO…
Sensitive
TOO…
Open
She’ll be lost
If she persists
Put it all away
Push it all down
Plan your way around
Forget for half a lifetime…
Until you remember.
It’s not breathing that’s hard
From this underwater grotto
It’s crying the tears
To fill the lake
Because a frozen pond
Is hard to animate
Unless a beam burns deep.
photo by Felipe Skroski
What a beautiful child she is…
Those voices will eventually calm, like the surface of a deep lake.
And all that will be left is a whisper of ‘I loved you. I was clueless how to show you that.’
And you will wake one morning knowing, not in your head, but in your gut, that the voices no longer are frozen, and that the feelings are fluid and that that child is free from her frozen, protected hell.
Thank you for your vulnerability, Dances.
Did you follow me around as a child? Wow! That poems so speaks to me of me. Funny, after three weeks of the pond outside my front door being frozen solid, over-night it melted and freed my orange koi from their game of Popsicle. What a beautiful thing to start a rainy Friday morning off with. Absolutely heart-warming, ice-melting lovely.