Author Information
To Carla--------(Song of the inner child)
Folder:
Better Poems
Why offer your hand to hold
When I'm holding back a waterfall
My gift, my curse,
Is my two little feet
Firmly on the ground;
No maniac howls of pain from me,
No crazy shifts in ideation:
I'm Jesus Christ, I'm Joan of Arc, I'm a beached whale
Just a feminine little girl
Who thinks she's the King's son
Incognito in this town
I can't entertain the townsfolk
As a troubadour
But I can play Tragedy
How can you give me your hand?
--a hand right through my dike--
This waterfall could become my flood
You'd call me a pest
You'd want other little girls
The palace would be shamed.
When I first met you, I saw the quintessence of the child of God.
How could anyone deal with being this raw all the time?
I had to read this twice, I enjoyed it so much the first time. Anyone who is in touch with their inner child or who builds "walls" can appreciate this poem. Thank you.
postpoems belated thanks
Hi Dolores, I am awful that I am getting back to you 9 years later!!!! Forgive me. And thank you for your supportive and understanding comment.
thank you that your suffering has become our bliss