Here is the child
Here is the tree
The child climbs the tree
The tree is magic
The tree is dying
The tree no longer stands
The child no longer stands
The child is weary
The adult watches
Here is the child
Here is the adult who was the child
They are not the same
They are the same
a road looks empty even as it is not
she looks empty, even as she is not
her organs still work
her heart still pumps
she feels she is frozen from the inside out
it is obviously a note on the piano
no-one knows how to play
to emulate the sensation
of splitting and tearing
she stays quiet
it is better that way
than trying to explain
why she wants to scream
Made me think of The Giving Tree in a way.
Can I re-parent the child I was
The one who still lives within
Make up for things lost or not given
For wounds received?
Or is that not the goal?
Could it be more elusive
To be, to feel, whole
Not split into infant, child, youth, adult, elder
To know peace among the parts?
To be one and many?
Or, is there one to find
Running through the illusions
Of different ages?
Best not try to figure it out
Before bed time
If sleep is to be had.
This is so absolutely beautiful ✨
This rewarded several readings.
thank you so very much dear one xo
ah! you are so insightful I didn’t see that but now I really do!