A Gift From The Inner Child (Of Winter and Dreams)

Many don't get this one... it's okay, you will, one day... though you'll have forgotten it by then, no doubt, you'll know what I speak of. You will probably be much older than I am, though, if you are normal.

The sun shifted a shadow that had been lying across my face
I awoke to the beauty of spring and wondered why
I had been living in winter for so long

The forecast had predicted spring some seven years distant
But I had remained in a cave of ice, chipping at the walls
With nothing mightier than a toothpick

I prayed for hope, and peace, and light, and love, and revelation
Not noticing these things were already within and I was
Denying myself the enlightment I already owned

Now that I feel the sun again I can almost forget the snow
Even as it falls outside as winter it really is now-
I'm too busy being reborn to notice

In the distance I hear a shout of victory and I know
That it's my inner child screaming that triumph
And to think I'd forgotten her

Yet here she comes running in a summer dress
Holding out a gift for me in her tiny hand
As though I mean the world to her


I open the gift to find it is empty
And I ask her why
I shake my head
I don't get it

"You have to dream it into being",
She laughs at me as though
I already knew and I
Finally understand

Author's Note

This poem just flowed out this way one night during a bout of insomnia... I get it, after rereading it, and I hope some of you do as well.

Reviews

[lori c]

i read this several times over and still dont know what to say. dont get me wrong, i like it, the flow, the images, the calling to listen to the One within us. inner children need nurturing too and they have much to teach us. thanks for the reminder to listen to mine more than i do. and a remembrance to dream. i love that she comes to you in a summer dress. that one line captures her intimately. well done.

[Solst Rapture]

I absolutely get it. It is why I am here, simply because I dare to dream it into being...and have committed to dreaming it into being. Will it be though? That is the question.

This is remarkable Constance. It was tender and a perfect remedy after my own writing. My recent story seems to have quite a bit of childish play in it, mixed with adult idiocy...I think this poem now has an important part to play in it all.

Thank you so much...