Like a toddler thrashing about in ankle deep water.
Knowing that I am safe and that nothing bad has or will happen,
it is simply change --
change that has happened
changed the landscape
changed the faces
changed the day to day experiences
Yet, there is little comforting the dispassionate child within me.
She wails and flails and wants to move backward in time.
Like Veruca Salt, she stomps her feet and shakes her hair as if these things will influence the inevitable movement of life.
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
A dance of unbridled crazy
manifest in movements that think they are much bigger than they are...
I stroke my hair
peppering my face with baby kisses
caressing my unwilling skin
giving promises of relief...
Peace will be here soon little lamb.
She renounces my attempts and strikes at me, refusing to believe these lies.
I hold her tightly,
knowing that she will make it through this, and that....