the little things

the little things 1.13.15
no matter how often i read
that god is love, grace, mercy
how can i believe these things
when i have known them so little?

the girl who is unloved unforgiven unwanted
she cannot know that god
her god
is the little things
so often stepped on or thrown away
broken baby birds
hungry kittens with mites and seeping eyes
she holds to her breast and feeds off her fingers
fatherless children with tangled hair
and dripping noses
she washes tenderly and reads softly
this she knows
the language of disappointment
and abandonment

what i want to know
is who will hold her
when she wakes in the night
in terror sobbing silently
back to sleep?

the self sufficient child
comfortably solitary
by choice
so as not to face
shunning and condemnation
at every turn

old souls are lonely souls

take her hands
wrap her with protection
and courage
she is scared
and calling his name
and knows now
he will never come

she weeps alone again
forbidden tears
burning her face
he kissed her forehead

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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1 Response to the little things

  1. Pingback: Book Review: The Ragamuffin Gospel | the liminal life of m

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