December 27, 2020

To the Little Girl who Lives in my Heart.

Magdalena Roeseler/flickr

There’s a little girl who lives in my heart.

A younger, more innocent version of me.

I see her with her straight-cut bangs.

She’s kind, soft, and gentle.




She’s not yet aware that the world can bring pain.

I often see her—

She comes to me.

At times unsuspecting, it seems.

But also, truthfully,

She’s always there.

Living and breathing within my heart.

She’s always with me.

I feel her—her energy.

Her hope, her longing

for love

and connection.

An enthusiasm to play,

To connect,

To feel seen.

She’s the one I cradle when I feel sad,

The one I speak to,

Whose little hand—

I hold.

She’s light, hopeful, filled with joy,

But, also feels a little distanced and alone.

She realized, at some point, how to take a deep breath

And just be strong.

Push her emotions aside and do what needs to be done.

I’m still working to soften this.

We don’t have to be strong.

I want her to know, she’s safe

And she’s never alone.

I see her when I’m processing a revealed pain or fear—

I see her eyes

When I realize

That this little girl grew up to carry

What I’ve carried.

What I feel myself thankfully, finally letting go of

And releasing.

Thoughts, feelings, insecurities,

Distorted beliefs about the world and what it means to live in it.

Who I should be to function within it.

Deep, unconscious beliefs she and I have spent years tenderly

and frustratingly—

Unraveling from.

I also see her when I feel happy,




And joyous.

When I picture her little face,

those eyes,

that smile,

I want to wrap her in a big, warm hug.

It softens this journey

To have her,

To feel her,

To breathe with her.

To feel her breathing in and with me.


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Image: Magdalena Roeseler/flickr