Wounds of a child
I remember sitting outside in the sun, one of my most precious memories. So much loneliness, pain deep inside that surprisingly didn’t kill me. Why did you cry? Why did he leave without saying a word? Why that look in his face towards me before slamming the door? Was he upset at me? Was it my fault? What did I do to make you so unhappy? Please talk to me.
I wish I could sooth your pain, I wish I could make things better for you, I wish I could make you happy.
Please don’t hurt me, I am only small, what could I have done so terribly that made you so angry at me? I feel not only the physical pain as you hit me and break the belt on my back, I am in pain because of the expression on your face, because of your rage as you hit, and hit harder and harder, the more I scream the more you hit. How am I supposed to contain so much pain inside of me? Isn’t crying and screaming a natural human response to pain? Physical and emotional? Please don’t hurt me anymore, please …
Please love me, please hug me, please caress my hair in a loving manner, you could give me a good night kiss in my forehead. You know I love you mother, I feel for you, I just know exactly what you are going through, only if I could erase your pain. Is it my fault?