My Poetry

THE WOUNDS OF CHILDHOOD


As I sort through old pictures
it is a stranger who stares up at me.
There is a small child there
Whose face shows no signs of shattered innocence.
She is dressed like Wonderwoman
an idol long since abandoned
and her eyes seem somehow familiar.
I shake my head
denying that we are the same,
but the girl smiles sadly
as if to say
You will see that I am a part of you.
That girl has suffered the wounds of childhood.
Her scars run deep
teaching her never to let anyone close to her heart
to keep hurt away.

In her eyes is a wisdom
acquired from her pain,
unlocking the memories of a girl buried long ago.

I close my eyes
preparing to hear her story
finally acknowledging
that the little girl is me.

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