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Writer's pictureMartha Preuett

Respond to Me

Little girl, small world, exciting world. 

Four brick walls, low roof, dusty old carpets

Mold, dim lights, sorrow

Broken woman, broken man, lonely hearts

But many brilliant children 


Snotty nose, baggy pants, brown eyes

Time to play, time to study, time to draw, 

Watch the gods: mom, dad, big sister and brothers

Wonder why you can’t be like them, can’t be them,

Can’t be worthy 


I gave my sacrifices, my thoughts, my hopes, my best concoctions,

Created just to please the gods.

The gods said “not worthy,” or averted their eyes

From my childish inadequacy. 


And I learned that to be me 

Was to be small and 

Unseeable

Unhearable 

Unknowable


Wonder why they can’t hear the little girl. Wonder why

Whatever she says,

It can and will be used against her. 

Why is she so small, and so alone

In this busy, four walled world?


Little sister, like spring’s first flower

Tender heart, 

Saw me, heard me, loved me

But I was

Hard, like a god made of stone, no eyes, no ears


I needed to learn myself, but I

Lost myself, deep down under sifting sands of

What never was and what never could be remembered.

I was never there for you, any of you.


I needed to love you, needed to be 

At least OK with me,

But I wasn’t. And I didn’t. Because,

Such a small girl didn’t know what it was to be,

But neither did you.


Now light is shining on fragmented vestiges of

The idols of my need, 

And I am crying again, it comes in waves. 

Because you were all so beautiful amidst the brokenness. Not the idols I made of you, but you. 


There, in the silent places of my memory,

God didn’t leave me alone,

But the false teachers didn’t either.

Like wolves among sheep, they preyed on

All the little lambs. 


But God, our Light, stays the same.


I’ve learned that to be Him

Is to be lowly and

Seeing

Listening

Knowing


Please know that I wanted to love you, that I always have loved you, that inside me my heart is stumbling as my mind is breaking,

Trying to understand if I love you as I love myself, when I’ve never even known myself. 


Can you look at me in the eyes, and see?

Listen and understand.

Know that in my anger,

There is a little girl wearing feelings that are too big. She feels like she is drowning in all the folds. 


Her lungs are scarred with the carbon monoxide of sighs held in. Of joy,

Unrealized and unreleased. 

Her muscles are paralyzed with atrophied personality. 


Big girl, big world, empty world

Old walls, caving ceiling, sinking floor

Chronic pain, undiagnosed and unknown, 

Broken woman, broken man, lonely hearts

But many brilliant children 


God is good, and He stays the same. 

He is no idol. 

He sees

He listens

He loves


And He does not fear our festering wounds and dark places, the retaliation of our wound up

Exasperation,

Hopelessness and stagnation, no

He stays with us to hear, heal, know, love. 



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