After all this time, my feeble mind still tries to find a reason for the pain, why it seems to remain the same after decades have washed away the crimes of others actions.  A mere slip of a child, so withdrawn and mild, shy, so shy she could not look another in the eye without dying bit by bit inside, trying to stammer out “why?” She never bothered anyone; reading was her sun, and her father’s voice her stars that carried her far far above the reach of hurtful stares and painful words meant for alone, so all alone. He left her longing only to belong to someone who would know her. One night an evil, vile act upon a child not awakened yet to that part of life, cut like a knife into her soul. An act so heartbreakingly cruel took what should have been hers to give, now gone forever. Pain replaced joy she might have known. So quietly her attacker, with his massive disaster closed her mind and took his prize. Never looking at what he left behind. A child ceased to grow in spirit heart or mind withdrew from human touch of any kind, for humans hurt you in your sleep. And so it went the outside shell matured beyond this girl, this child who never knew what the power of love could do. She never smiled like others did, frozen in the truth that she had nothing to give, but no one asked, she never offered. Decade after decade after. Her gift to make others laugh, brought those who heard her come back and bring others too, who wanted what this girl knew. This shy child had a gift so great, that others wanted to direct her fate. They thrust her in a white spotlight to make them laugh while she cried inside, and died inside to belong. A hefty price to pay. Upon a stage she talked and played the part that broke her heart, a lie others created to hide the lie that hid the action that stopped the life she should have had, had not that monster happened in her little girl bed. They laughed so hard they cried tears from eyes that could not see the damage that could only grow, but never show. The blind seeing what they want to see.   A knight upon a horse so bright that sun shone in its eyes spied this woman child. This person who spoke but never smiled, never knew she was worthwhile, who had so much to receive, so much love to give, he wanted her for his.   The reconstruction of a spirit is a delicate design, guarded by a demon of considerable size and girth, larger than the girls self worth, but onward he proceeded. This glorious knighted human being cut his way through the demon inches at a time, each slash a cry from deep inside, as blood promoted healing. Not finished, still a start to thaw a broken life, created in pain nurtured with strife.   God Bless this burnished knight for seeing what laughing eyes deleted and ignored with selfish reason. God Bless this more than human man, who reached inside her frozen land and taught her seasons, gave her wisdom and reasons to find her smile, who saw the child within still crying to begin. Not finished yet, but a start. 
    Where The World Meets™
Copyright © 2005-2007 Lallouz International  Magazine. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or part without permission  is prohibited. I Terms and Conditions
a child’s STORY
by S. Leah Brown
 
 
S. Leah Brown, a colorful Urban Poetess and Spoken Word Artist is the founder of “The Write to Heal”, a workshop that promotes reading, poetry and other creative outlets for kids at risk. In 2004, her first workshop graduated from Mission College and the Youth Advocacy Program in Sylmar. Brown is also the author of a newly published poetry collection entitled “LEAHSLAND”. She may be contacted via email: tiggyclay@yahoo.commailto:tiggyclay@yahoo.comshapeimage_10_link_0
 
0 0 Painting of “THE STORYTELLER” by Contessa Rhonda von Sternberg Copyright © Galleria Lallouz, Corp. All rights reserved.