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