I did not know / old childhood friend

I did not know 

I had a child to protect

I did not know 

she was used to neglect 

I did not know 

how to feed her 

what she liked to wear

how to hold or care 

for her skin and hair 

I did not know 

how to protect her 

because I did not have 

the strength to fail

until one cold and stormy evening

I heard a ring

and there at my door step 

was a wet 

familiar little girl 

yellow blanket and grey bear 

in her tiny hand 

a warm forgiving look 

in her hazel eyes 

it was then I realized 

that I did not recognize 

her needs as mine 

I had refused to listen 

to her inherent wisdom 

for years 

I could no longer hear 

her pleading for my presence:

my protection 

but then

last december

in the pouring rain 

there she was 

open arms

no raincoat on

welcoming my grief 

like an old childhood friend 

where she asked again 

and this time 

I listened

and instantly 

without judgement 

she offered the kind 

of kindness loss needs: 

a hand to hold

an eternal

internal hug 

standing in the rain

crying like the rain 

around us 

she showed me 

how to take off my armor: 

the denial I wore 

since before 

I can remember 

I told her 

“it hurts, this letting go. 

I do not know 

my life without it.”

she said “it was never yours 

in the first place.”

and once free from its weight

she said softly 

“sometimes holding heaviness 

is a way of trying to forget.”

like I said

I did not know

I had a child to protect 

I did not know 

that this abandoned child 

standing in the rain

was me

© Jona Noelle Baily, 2021

Photo by Zurna Creative on Unsplash