HWhile searching for some document that went missing, which is the uncanny ability that documents have, espescially if they are important ones, I came across a poem that I had written. By the handwriting I estimate my age to be around 13 or 14. I, at present have no recollection of ever having written it or why I wrote it. But there must have been some sense of deja vu, to so aptly put then what I am experiencing now. As i read it now, I itch to fine tune it, to tweak it. But, I am leaving it as is, the innocence of a child who probably at the time struggled to pen what she was feeling, because of the sheer weight of the emotions.
How wonderful life is when one is happy,
How sorrowful when one is sad.
The pain, the anguish, the hurt and the sorrow
Know no bounds at all.
Hurt and scarred as I am
Life no longer scares me
No longer am i terrified of living it
And no longer will I be scared of living it my way.
But then at times my mind wonders
Why is it that I should suffer?
Why should all this pain be inflicted on me?
Why should I be filled with all this pain?
I am but a little girl
A lamb in the land of wolves,
A lamb who is lost
And has none to look for her.
Unprotected as I am I survived
Inexperienced as I was I learned the ways of life
A woman in a child's body
With knowledge needed to face all.
Then at times insecurity and doubt creeps in
What if I am wrong?
Was it too late that I began to understand
Was it too late that I realised I was being used
People who smiled were becoming strangers
I knew them, yet they were unknown
Love was what I needed
Hurt and sorrow was what I got.
I am still a child, though I have grown
Trying to get what I have never known
What is it like to act as a child?
Asks one who has never been held
What is it like to feel secure?
Asks one who is so insecure
What is it like to be loved?
Asks one who has never been loved
Uncles and brothers I have many
Alas! None that loves me though
Aunts and sisters are plenty,
Hurt and sorrow they give
Is it difficult to love?
When our hearts are filled with it
Is it difficult to share?
When all have plenty?
Why then does no one love?
Why then does no one share?
Does this little child have to starve
For food only love can fill
Nancy Abraham
No comments:
Post a Comment