This is a talk for all of us who have suffered childhood trauma and are working towards recovery and healing.
In the muck of our minds,
The wounded child carries our shame,
Secrets,
And pain.
And even though small,
With hardly a voice at all,
Her presence is written on the depths of our soul.
One day,
While standing at a crossroad in my life,
Her spirit revealed itself to me,
And I remembered.
I had forgotten everything about her.
I had forgotten the sound of her sweet voice,
Especially when she giggled.
I had forgotten that she could make friends with the clouds,
Trees,
Flowers,
And even the cracks in the road.
I had forgotten how creative she was,
That she could play with a stick and some dirt for hours.
I had forgotten that she believed in fairies,
Angels,
And mystical beings,
And they all shared a secret language.
I had forgotten so much about her that even in the midst of complete chaos,
She was able to create a sanctuary as its walls crumbled away around her.
I had forgotten how courageous,
Perceptive she had been,
And how she still is,
As she is always there for me,
Holding my hand,
Guiding me,
Existing in the backdrop of my life.
And now that I see her,
I am able to embrace her,
And I can now let her go with gratitude,
Understanding,
And unconditional love,
Things that she has never felt for her work here is done.
And now she may rest while I continue to live a life grounded in the path she had paved for this little human being that is me.
