Reaching the Inner Child

If pain spoke
less with intimidation
more with invitation

then I might dare
to shuffle closer
attentive and open

Find a fear cornered there
set behind the tautness
barred vulnerability

Speak softly,
intuition would counsel,
approach with tenderness

I would behold
the extent of the injury
length and breadth of abuse

A child dwells in these spaces
believing she’s protected
lonely and alive

Neglect having brutalized her edges
she cowers and yet, curiosity and
hope still hold space in her eyes

I will sit with her in silence
match my rhythm to hers
settle on a calmer resonance

Pain, I’ll offer
is not your fault –
You don’t need to bear it alone

And when, or if
she sidles closer
I will hold steady

Ignore the stench of bleeding
the disarray of matted locks
the sweat of abandonment

And tell her she is beautiful
a soul created in God’s likeness
a cherished one

She’ll not believe me, of course
For that will take time
and the building of trust

But should I stay
soft and warm
and listening

One day I’ll hear her speak:
Would it be okay
if we went outside to play?

(Image my own)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

34 thoughts on “Reaching the Inner Child”

  1. That imageā€”touching the inner child in their stillness, not trying to heal, just to listenā€”struck me straight in the quiet of my own story. So often the impulse is to fix what feels broken, but what truly softens the wound is presence, not action.

    This connects with something I explored in The Coherence of Death: true restoration doesnā€™t rewrite the past ā€” it threads the mind back into coherence by honoring what silenced us, then resaying it with compassion. Healing might unfold not through repairing, but through attuningā€”listening in silence before moving.

    Thank you for giving us space to touch the stillness behind our stories.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So beautiful and sweet and profound. Love the part about invitation rather than intimidation, and that sweet moment at the end with the child, how trust takes time, but how saying the things they might not understand now still inspires them to see themselves in a different light and stay strong.

    Liked by 1 person

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