What night?

What Night?


Mar 93

What night?

The stars were young, I was young, and I saw no darkness in the night. The moon was bright and shining, and there could be no failing of the light. I would close my eyes and spin around, laughing out loud in foolish lunacy, and singing to all who would listen to this child in the streets.

What pain?

I was invincible and strong; nothing could hurt me. I climbed the highest trees, ran through the streets at night with no fear, leapt without looking and took all dares. How could there be pain, when the world was light and beauty and blue skies? I raced through the world, taunting the stars and threw my whole body into being.

What abuse?

When the world was so gracious, like an elegant lady gently wafting the air with her motions, how could there be abuse? When no one hears the silent cry, when no one sees the obvious tears, and when the pleas and screams go unheard into the silence, how can there be abuse? When the unspoken actions are gentle and kind, when there in tenderness and misguided love, when the body speaks a language that the child can not yet comprehend, how can it be abuse?


What night, what pain, what abuse?
No one heard, so it could not be true.



Copyright 1997, 1998 Tara Tambollio
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