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,
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