the little girl is five and three quarters
she says she's scared of the dark
but really she's scared of what she doesn't know
she imagines monsters in her head,
monsters with sharp claws and snapping jaws, green like the spinach she detests
but her mother hushes her, tucks her in
the little girl is in a bigger body now,
that age where her mind and people and the world are an unsolvable cipher
she says she's scared to grow up but really she's just scared of what she doesn't know
life was easier when all her days were crayons and juice boxes,
rusty swing-sets and dreams of pink ponies
she doesn't want to look in the mirror one day and see the childish whimsy fade, trapped in a 9-5 routine that has killed her dreams
she doesn't check under the bed at night but lies awake and harrowed anyway thinking they were wrong; monsters do exist, ones born perhaps of the empty space in her heart, carved from time and trauma, from people taken away too early and longed-for wishes never meant to be, taunting her with piercing memories of voices, scents, memories she wants to forget, griefs that don't fade
she's old and grey now though her spirit has only grown in resilience, she shares her stories to those who may need to listen,
reflects on the life she has lived; not without its pain but with moments that made it inexplicably worthwhile,
of how everything that seemed so daunting she conquered even with trembling hands and breath, how it was possible she could shed her naivety yet not give up her innocence, her amaranthine faith in the inherent goodness of people, how even in the darkest days when all seemed lost there was always something new, always reasons to keep moving forward- new people, places, poems to fall in love with, breathtaking sunsets to wonder at, desserts to become her favourites
some days she is afraid of the next journey, the great unknown that lays ahead, a vast unexplored realm
in her head death is a monster with no shape or form, just a dark figure in the night to snatch her away
but she takes a breath and smiles, soothes the little girl in a body lovingly marked by time, reminds her;
it's human nature, written in our blood and bones to fear the unknown and yet-
we find ourselves pulled by some irrepressible yearning to fulfil our quest to not just exist but live, to find adventure; to find ourselves in its midst
the little bird is always safe in its nest, the ship always safe at its shore, but she has learned now that the fear, the uncertainty, the longing to dwell forever in safety and familiarity are simply the price you must give up, the risk you must take, because in the end, like the soaring bird or ship at sea destined for greater things, she knows one thing; she owes it to herself-owes it to that starry eyed little girl- to become everything she was made to be
andulkaphoto
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theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
discoholicmusic
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