You see, someone told her to hide,
and no one else told her
she didn’t have to do that..
They told her to be good,
to be helpful,
to be quiet,
to love God
and to obey her elders.
But no one told her she didn’t have to hide.
They said, “Children should be seen
and not heard.”
“I’m too busy, go play.”
They said, “Don’t interrupt when
we’re busy
or talking
or resting.”
But no one said, “Don’t listen to him or do what he says.”
So, she carefully hid herself
from them
She became a conspirator
in a game she didn’t want to play.
She’s hiding now.
Her screams are silent,
her rage is bound within
clenched jaws
and knotted stomach.
The walls of her dungeon
are thick and high.
It’s hard to see people through them.
It’s especially hard to see God.
She has left us clues
because she doesn’t want to stay there.
She wants to break out
and dance in the sunshine.
She wants to know it’s OK
to be pretty and feminine
and even sexy.
But the fear that caused her
to build her own prison
is very strong.
And it’s hard to trust those
who would tear down the walls.
After all, he might be gone
but the rage is not.
Where will the rage go?
Who will it hurt?
Will it be as uncontrollable as a breaking dam?
She has a lot to fear.
We know she’s nearby.
We can feel her trembling.
We can almost hear her
telling the story
over and
over
and over.
Endlessly repeating it
where no one hears.
Keeping the grown up child
so busy
she cannot concentrate
on important things.
The whispering child
sitting in the darkness
holding tightly to all
the feelings
I need to feel.
THE JOURNEY BEGINS by donna swanson c.2008
