The Gift

I’m in a dusky, green meadow

With waving, bending grass

A little girl approaches

A girl I know so well

Standing there in front of me

Her face reflects my own

 

In her hands, she holds a box

Wrapped with string and bow

All at once I’m crying

Speaking to the girl:

 

I’m sorry that they hurt you

For the fearful life you had

I’m sorry you were happy,

But beneath it all was sad.

 

I wish I could have saved you

And told you how to fight

I wish I could have held you

While you shed tears on your bed at night

 

The little girl takes my hand

Eyes a shiny blue

“Inside this box,

I have a gift for you.”

 

I take the box

Unwrap it slow

My hands a trembling mess

What memory will the box reveal?

I lift the lid with dread

 

I gasp a bit

Surprised delight

I smile at the girl

She smiles back

And hops away, calling

“Say what you want to say.”

  

My heart skips two beats

Before it speaks

The gift is strong and clear

I accept the gift

A deliberate choice

And turn it all around

I use my words

And thank the girl

For she’s gifted my own voice


Photo by Leone Venter on Unsplash