Just sit and be still;
Meagre sounds compete with massive silence.
Giving myself to it in a different way now,
Yet tinges of teenage angst touch me with cold, sad fingers,
And I need to grieve for her,
For the self who ate to feel love,
Then purged to rid shame,
Over and over and over.
For her unwavering measurement of worth
Taken in the flatness of her tummy,
As she cast her critical eye in the mirror,
And carefully counted out 200 sit ups.
Her daily prescriptions created control,
With love nowhere to be seen.
And I am loving her now.
I am opening my arms to her,
Telling her,
Showing her
She is enough,
Loved,
Worthwhile,
Wonderful,
Creative,
And I love her.
I love her awkward shyness
And her brash, loud ‘big I am’,
Her need for solitude
And to play childish games,
I love her intelligence,
Often missed at school,
And I love her big heart that still can love the people who hurt her,
That ability to empathise,
And imagine;
I love her desire to be markedly different,
And her longing to belong,
Her ways of experimenting with clothes,
And gentle rebellions.
And I love her because there’ll never be another like her,
So my heart squeezes tears from my eyes
When I see her try to take her life.
And I whisper to the family dog,
Who wakes up the parents,
Who take her to hospital,
Where she is stitched up by a nurse with no compassion.
And I gently blow love into her
And walk with her all the way to now.
We are together.
Together we sit
And ease ourselves into the massive silence.
