photo credit via link

BROKEN PIECES

Rebellion
Poor choices
Immature logic
Stubborn denial

All those years of training up her child...
Were they totally wasted?
Where did she go wrong?

Self-incrimination,
trying to shoulder a blame
that really is not hers:
A mother's heart breaks
into a million tiny fragments,
each one a cutting-sharp edge
of anguish that cannot be assuaged.

Invisible slivers that cannot be found
to be removed.

"I HURT!" she first feels
and those feelings push outward, distraught.
"YOU HURT ME!"
her thoughts direct at her grown child
and instinctively, she tries to shut off
the source of the pain.

But even that hurts
and feels utterly wrong
because the source is her child
whom she deeply loves.

She cannot shut off her child.
But surely she cannot remain
flayed open so vulnerably?

Guilt ...
Again.

What does it matter?
she tells herself,
feeling utterly at a loss.

To love
is to remain vulnerable
To cut off the source
stops the debilitating pain

The choice
is as difficult as the situation itself.
The solution
is as painful as the problem.
It all feels wrong

There is no out!

The shards of brokenness
seem to fly around
in a hurricane of turmoil
constantly stabbing,
slicing everywhere
even -especially- where tenderness is exposed.

The whirlwind slows
and the pieces fall to the ground

LOVE!
I WILL LOVE!

Tearfully, she kneels
and gathers the shards of her heart into a pile,
slivers piercing her hands

LOVE!
I WILL LOVE!

She insists despite the dust
that gathers with the fragments
and mixes with the glass
and the blood.

LOVE!
I WILL LOVE!
Oh God!! 
I WILL LOVE! I WILL LOVE!

Her tears fall in painful desperation
as she tries to piece her heart back together.

Please..
I cannot not love!

I WILL LOVE! I WILL LOVE! I WILL LOVE!

The blood, the tears, the glass, the dust...

Her hands cover her face
and she folds in half,
crying.

please God...

I will love.
It doesn't matter how much it hurts.
I will love.
No matter what she chooses.
I will love.
Regardless of the cost
I will love.

I will not interfere
I will not intervene
The choices are hers
The consequences are hers as well.
I will love.

I will love.

Oh God...
Make it stop!
I hurt.

I will love.

©drc 2010

photo credit via link (altered for color)

LITTLE GIRL, LOST

In search of independence and identity
amid the angriest of desires
to escape what she perceives
as controlling manipulation,
she runs from the shelter of safety and love
into the unknown: wholly unprepared.

The initial flight for freedom is bliss
No one can  tell her what to do
She is free of the expectations of others
(she believes)
and yet beneath that soaring sensation
is a seed of fear, and tremendous pain.

and those who truly love her
can now only watch
and love her from afar.

Finding she is still loved
by those whom she escaped
(because they really do matter,
even though she's filled with angst)
she soars once again,
believing her choice was so right -
though she has nothing upon which to stand.

A honeymoon of independence
(but it's not)
She has escaped from one dependence
into another...
and she is dancing as fast as she can
in an attempt to stay on her feet.

Slowly,
much too slowly for those
who care enough to watch,
she begins to dance her way into exhaustion.

You cannot dance forever
Sometimes you must stand
and when you do,
you must stand on your own two feet.

Little girl, lost...
Sometimes a step back is a step forward.

Frustration overwhelms her
as the world she created in her mind
does not match the reality
in which she finds herself.

She frenetically dances on
Persistent:
Intent upon making her wrong
"No!" she denies. "It wasn't wrong!"
into right.
Still she is adamant that
the only way out - is through.

Though those who truly love her
shake their heads in profound sorrow
and stand at a distance,
waiting...
loving...
hoping...
watching...

Little girl, lost...
Sometimes a step back is a step forward.

Seething in tearful agitation,
she fights with the advice
she first begs for then shuns,
because she cannot believe
anyone else could possibly know
the truth more than she.

To give up perceived freedom
To admit such catastrophic error in judgment
To accept what she perceives
as monumental defeat...

Oh, no.
Better to create her own truth.
She insists on making it work.

With pained, stumbling blindness
she dances on.

It's an admirable, mature vision,
she believes...
(as erroneous as it may be):
to live with the consequences
of such a hugely mistaken choice,
(which fact she is not yet willing to concede)
Though totally abandoning it
and beginning again
(she will admit)
would profoundly simplify her life.

Little girl, lost...
Sometimes a step back is a step forward.

She wishes to make it on her own
but with no resources of her own
upon which to rely
she has landed herself more alone than ever
in a confused and distorted reality.
A black hole in which she swears
if only one thing comes true
everything else will fall into place
and all things will aright

Looking in from an enforced outside perspective
and able to foresee the outcome of her present hopes
Those who truly love her
shake their heads in profound sorrow
and still stand at a distance,
waiting...
loving...
hoping...
watching...

Little girl, lost...
Sometimes a step back is a step forward.

She dances with tears in her eyes.
She trips and falls
and her feet begin to bleed
and yet she dances
defiantly.

and they wait,
still loving,
hurting with her pain,
for her to reach out.
Not reach for a handout,
but to reach out with knowledge,
and awareness,
and humility
to reach out with desperation
and a profound sincerity
that will finally make the right choices
and abandon the fantasies

and when that moment comes...
with tears in their eyes
and all the love they have always held for her,
the ones who truly love her
will gather her close,
lift her gently off her wounded feet
cocoon her aching heart
and hold her
and carry her
and help her heal
and grow
and become healthy

And when their dancer is truly prepared
and ready
to be truly independent
and strong,
they will give her the stage
and watch the performance of a lifetime.

Reality can be beautiful,
my little girl, lost...

and sometimes a step back is a step forward.

©drc 2010