I stumbled upon a poem this morning written by Holly Federle. It’s called “Small Little Child.” I am going to excerpt it below.
Small, little child with her eyes open wide Can't understand why it hurts inside. Poor little girl just stares into space, Transports herself into another place.
Small, little child becomes someone else. Someone stronger, faster, someone who can yell. Poor little girl never really gets away, Just blocks it out with clouds of blue and gray.
Sad, young wife, with her eyes open wide, Can't understand why it hurts inside. Poor young woman just stares into space, The small, little child locked in a hiding place.
Sad, young wife has learned to hide her pain. The others are silenced to make her feel more sane. Poor young woman can't seem to remember much. She can't quite afford to feel his loving touch.
Sad, young woman, with her eyes open wide, Can't understand why it hurts inside. Poor young woman is now all alone. She can't figure out how she lost her happy home.
Sad, young woman never really lived, She could never really trust; she could never really give.
As I read and re-read this poem, I found myself in each one of its well written lines. The hidden places that still live within me from my abusive past; that is where I am when I fall in the hole of hopeless. At least now I know.
It’s funny how we can keep things from ourselves, things we deem as to painful on a subconscious level, but it’s in the knowing that we can free ourselves of the past. In this poem, the “Sad Young Woman” ultimately takes her own life to stop the pain. I am going to give this beautifully written painful poem a new ending; my ending as I hope and pray suicide is never an answer. I don’t know how my life will go or where it will take me, but I am trying my best to heal.
To all of those still hurting, it’s never too late to reach out and begin to heal. If you need help please know you are not alone in this.