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
An enthusiasm to play,
To feel seen.
She’s the one I cradle when I feel sad,
The one I speak to,
Whose little hand—
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
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
I also see her when I feel happy,
When I picture her little face,
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.