Monday, November 17, 2008

Poem - Inner Child's Lament

What is wrong with me?
What can it be?
The fly in my ointment?
The tempest in my tea?
The cock in my mouth
when I was just seven?
Could such a child
ever go up to Heaven?
I bottled that up
Made believe it was gone
For many many years
Forgotten so long
I didn’t remember
Until last December
Yet still I dismembered
and chopped myself up
into pieces that wouldn’t
let the big secret out.
Now I’ve blown my cork-
I’ve flipped my lid
I’m starting to know all that I did,
All the nasty things he did to that kid-
Was it really me? Maybe I dream,
This nightmare haunts me
The guilt ever taunts me
But no
It is true
It was me in that stew-
The little girl worried that she would
go crazy
so worried, she simply made it go hazy-
The choke in the throat
I can’t swallow that pill.
Being good, being naughty-
Neither one fulfills.
Why don’t I like playing games anymore?
Cause the game as a child was that I was a whore.
And sex, yes I love it
Will you love me true
if I let you shove it
inside of me too?
And now I am big
Why do I still feel too small?
My anger could raise me 100 feet tall.
My guilt has already put me way past hell,
Punished me for sins even I cannot tell.
My sorrow can fill all the Seven Blue Seas.
My fear is enough to shake everyone’s knees.
Someday I’ll grow up & will love that small girl
We will dance together, we’ll twirl & we’ll whirl
We’ll feel safe and sound
We’ll sleep oh so tight
And the bed bugs will never again ever bite.

by Terra Rafael

1 comment:

A Week's Worth of Women said...

your poem on Mon. is so incredible.
it needs to be out in the world, some magazine maybe. i so relate.
Love, Patricia