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Art for the soul

What Little Girls Say

In a darkened room with little space to see

a little girl raises her hand

for a question that no one asked her

and no one cared to hear,

but she talks anyways, laughing, squeaking quietly, explaining profusely

She has things to share

things that tickle her throat because they're yearning to come out

that clamor for attention

so she gets out of the way and lets them come through

Her own inner truth, inner investigation,

does not know, understand, comprehend the meaning of STOP

and so she goes, regardless of who listens,

she talks.

 

----

Recently, I've felt this hunger within me

After I put the kids to bed, or before,

that yearns for something I can't put my finger on

So I reach for a "guilty" pleasure, things that will reward me by saying- " Good job! You worked hard today!"

like a piece of chocolate, a popsicle..

" You deserve it!" I tell myself.

But still, after, I'm still hungry, still hungry deeply inside.

And I realize, surrounded by clothes to fold and dinner to prepare, and errands to do this-

I'm hungry, I'm famished, I'm starved for myself

I'm starved for that little voice within me

The little girl who has forgotten that she has stories to tell and Things to discuss

This forgotten gold mine,

Glitters concealed, from a closed door with the lights turned off.

But today, when I sat down, I heard her, I saw her-

That little girl,

She opened the door a crack,

enough to stick out her head as a small ray of light beamed through

As she gave me that big old grin of hers, ecstatic I was coming out to play

At last.

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