There once was a beautiful little girl.
Where is she now, who can tell?
Born into a chaotic family she dwells,
Living life as if in a spell.
She knew the divide…the play from the spankin’ side.
She played footloose and free:
She played quite happily.
Always growing with love from her family,
Even if so dysfunction-ally.
Some family trees blossom exuberantly: Others don’t fork, and still others are like getting stuck in the eye with a spork. Families rub off in good and bad ways. It’s up to the little girl to decide upon which side she plays. The lives that she leads blur the divide, but right where it’s always been does it reside.
Is she choosing to fly?
Is she choosing painfully slow suicide?
(in this I confide: Anciently, the sun knew the sea and the moon was lost in jealousy. Here the moon dwelt, feeling lashed by a belt, until one day it had an epiphany. You see, the moon was scorned by its form and never could see (pre epiphany) how magnificently it reflects the sun’s light to the sea, making it easier to breathe. This day the moon realized how important are the three, was the one from whence they lived happily.)
O the hearts in the family ebb and flow,
Knowing not what the already know.
O how the heart feels like it’s being raked with a razor rake,
Becoming stronger, healing slice and break…
The time has come for the girl to reach above, to not let anyone shove;
Because sometimes love fits like ripped gloves,
Allowing icy air in burning hair and skin…
But effort and care and love,
Stitch up torn, warn-out gloves
Allowing warmth and feeling back to raw skin…
Allowing the little girl to begin again.
Allowing the beautiful young little girl back out to play.