once upon a time
in a faraway land
there lived a lonely little girlwhose best and only friend was a black cat.
if she could be found within the house,
it was usually in her closet, behind the clothes
praying the monsters wouldn't find her
she'd play very quietly and smother her giggles
and whisper to her imaginary friends
as they colored the walls of the closet with crayola dreams.
more often, she was outside
running wild and barefoot
long platinum hair dusty and tangled, flying behind her.
there was a whole world on her street
trees to climb and hide in,
secret houses to build in the back corners of the yard
fairies in the flowers to whisper her secrets to
toads to train and ants to feed.
mulberries to pick and eat,
honeysuckle to wash it all down . . .
she was the tragic princess in her own rosy-glow world.
some days stretched for years and years passed like minutes
an introduction into the social world forced her to retreat ever deeper every year.
in some ways old, in other ways, an infant
she was still somehow ageless and odd,
a fey little creature
with so few friends and so many longings.
she was unsupervised and untutored
surrounded by soft beauty
and ugly hearts.
the bruises may heal
but the scars they leave can be seen in every choice and cringe
and the crippling fears that brand an outcast.
some days, she is still here . . .
the scared little girl
throat full of very real terrors
crouching in small spaces
hiding from all too real monsters
but she stopped praying.
you can see her, just behind the wide, sad eyes
in the little room with big, blue windows
in the small gestures of weakness
in the way she worships her best friend for saving her,
for breaking her heart but never her trust,
for being the first man who made her feel safe and loved for something other than sex..
you will find the girl who woke to the ripping and pain of the worst violation
in the way she won't commit to tomorrow.
you will find the girl who was taught that it was all her fault
in the apologies she gives for the weather and bad drivers.
you will find the girl who never knew the trigger
in the refusal to make a decision on another's preferences or feelings.
you will find the mother of herself
in the way she'll care for and take charge of the hurt.
you will find the girl searching for peace
in the nervous habits of cleaning and balancing.
this little girl never grew up
she never had the chance.
you have to have been a child to be able to 'grow up'.