The Inner Child

A dear friend of mine wrote this gorgeous poem about recovering the precious inner child☺️

Serendipitously, last night my inner child played and sang last night for a while.. the sounds she made were completely alive and connected in the way only our most innocent and unconditioned parts can- in a work where there isn’t shame, where everything is valued and magical. Before our minds took over and made us adults. It was pure bliss. Here’s her poem:

The little one

Inside all of us 

Needs to be brought 

Into the light 

So that she can breath and laugh and feel warmth on her skin

Too long 

She has huddled in the basement 

Dirty and bruised

And laying on the concrete floor 

Bones aching 

Skin scraped and raw 

From the abuse 

She suffered 

At the hands

Of those 

Who would harm the innocent 

It was so scary 

That I didn’t want to look 

At what 

There was to see

In this dark cellar 

Of suffering 

A mat next to 

A workout bench 

Where a little one 

Lost her heart 

Lost her mind

Where she

Was abandoned, 

Terrifyingly alone 

I knew that  

Something was there 

Older and deeper 

And

More grotesque 

Than I wanted to see 

Who did this to me?

Who would do this to anyone?

I can’t remember. 

Does that make it

Less real?

I found her this way, my little girl.

Her eyes almost sealed shut 

Because she forgot about the light,

Like a blind cave fish 

So used to the dark

That she forgot how to see.

I pulled her in to me

As her momma

And even as she resisted 

And I stroked her soft hair

Until her body dropped down

and her heart started to beat again.

Until her breath matched mine, 

I cooed to her,

I rocked her,

I swayed with her, 

The way that the ocean holds the body 

Carrying it along

Inside a force more powerful 

Than could be imagined.

She trembled 

When I said 

We could leave 

And I shook too 

With anger and grief 

And Mama Bear righteousness

Because 

No child deserves to be treated this way. 

But finally, we could find strength 

Together 

To climb those stairs 

And make our way

Out.

She was so afraid 

Wanted to turn back around 

Because the known torture 

Is sometimes easier than Hope

If you let yourself hope

Then perhaps you might find

Yourself 

Back on cold concrete, bloody and alone

Wondering how you can pick yourself up

Once more. 

But I told her, we have to try

To hope.

It is our core nature. 

It is our gift …

To keep finding God 

Amongst the rubbish heap of failed Love.

To keep longing for grace 

Even when we know

The flipside 

Of pain, of loss, of evil. 

Because 

Right behind all of us

He is here 

Jesus, God, Goddess, 

One without form

Earth and ocean

Sun and sky

To catch us 

All.

So that we can dissolve 

In to the stardust 

That is our true being.

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Written by Rebecca Mara
Rebecca Mara is an intuitive coach, energy healer, and somato-emotional bodyworker.