There once was a very small girl,
Leota, perfect and whole in her
perfection, who after the way of her
kind, did not know this, or what it meant.
Then once her trust was breached,
and again, and again, and again,
fear pouring in through the cracks
in her soul and her heart and her
mind, her body knew fear and she hid,
burrowing deep, deep as deep.
Protecting that tiny fragile seed
of herself somehow she survived
putting forth neither leaf nor flower,
a seed's powerless waiting to find conditions right
but there were a hundred miles of rock and dirt around her
she waited through the ages.
Found herself one day a woman with children of her own
false glimpses of self frightening
how did I get here?
navigating or adrift? sinking?
mines! everywhere! She burrowed deeper yet,
frightened of fear.
One day there was an earthquake, and
understanding suddenly streamed in like life-giving
rays of sunshine, and she saw herself as she really was
and had been,
hiding,
all along.
Now this very small girl puts out tendrils,
sipping and licking at the tastiness of Life,
recoiling from the bitter
sometimes she still burrows frantically
with fear gripping at her
mind, she hasn't learned trust yet.
Wait with compassion for her
to remember
in those quiet spaces when
her spirit reaches out
be kind
- October 2002
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