I grew up a paper doll child,
something to dress in hand me downs,
and ignore if my tears got too loud.
Nobody noticed they were planting rebellion,
tilling insomnia, or trying to put me in boxes
too small for my imagination to breathe.
There wasn’t anything vague about being ignored,
no excuses of being too busy, just a front door
that pushed me out to seek solace in wild things
that grew outside windows that winked with dust.
It was tough trying to balance secrets and threats
when my ears rang with a voice whispering,
“It will always be your fault.”
©Susie Clevenger 2024
I actually wrote two poem for Shay's Word Garden Word List.
The second one is from my Twila Series on my blog Susie's Sentences.
So poignant - and it is never 'your' fault - a powerful and beautiful poem _ Jae
ReplyDeleteThat's a horrible position to put any child in, and it's an injury to the spirit that is very hard to heal. I think anyone who survives it reasonably intact is a hero.
ReplyDeleteI resonate with seeking solace in wild things, and that horrible feeling of never being enough, always at fault, as a child. Just look at how you spread your wings and flew when you got old enough to go out that door, my friend! You shine.
ReplyDelete"just a front door
ReplyDeletethat pushed me out to seek solace in wild things
that grew outside windows that winked with dust."
Amazing poetry despite the real darkness.
Not being noticed, being ignored, is so painful, especially for children. It was never your fault, but it is so hard to shake that continuously whispering voice. Tough, it was, and tough you are.
ReplyDelete