I am Reparenting Myself
It’s Harder Than I thought.
After many years of trying to run away ,
She finally caught up with me,
Wailing, whining, screaming, in pain and traumatized,
All she wanted was my time,
She asked me to hold her hand,
She was scared.
I was afraid to touch her,
I saw the wounds on her,
Still bleeding, raw.
Her face contorted, in pain.
She needed help,
Some care at least,
Some attention, my attention.
I broke down with her,
She cried, I wailed.
She took my hand, I embraced her.
She winced in pain, I addressed her wounds.
She was me, younger, innocent, naïve.
She had a lot to say,
Of Her wounds,
Her bruises,
Her pain,
She had many to blame too.
As I dressed her wounds,
I acknowledged her fears, validated her feelings.
In between sobs, we forgave.
I assured her that she has me now,
That I will raise her,
That I will walk with her,
That I will not run.
That I cannot afford to fail her too.
The wailing stopped, the pain eased.
But the child she is, remained.
