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.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this was written to a grown-up who tried to befriend me when I was a little girl, but I was unable to let her in, for fear that my sadness would overwhelm her.

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kittymonkey's picture

When I first met you, I saw the quintessence of the child of God.

Elizabeth Burgess Drivas's picture

How could anyone deal with being this raw all the time?

Dolores Nowak-Akey's picture

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.

wemni's picture

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.

saiom's picture

thank you that your suffering has become our bliss


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