How could they know?

Her face, Mother’s lap, 

Soft hands, her back.

Tears soaked, mascara stream.

Young love, broken dream.

Wave settles, breathing slows.

An opening comes, the Mother knows.

They just don’t know, they cannot see,  

“How could they, dear?” the Mother said sweetly.  

The child’s ears opened, and the silence grew,  

And she felt a Heart Light shining through. 

How could they see you if you fear being seen?

If you never reveal what lies between.

If you hide behind masks, loud laughs, an armored heart?

How could they see you if you don’t show your Art?

The storm clouds broke and the clarity came,

The child’s eyes widened, revealing more pain.

It all makes sense, she thought in her head…

And a more troubling answer arose instead.

Not: How do I get them to see me and like me?

To Who on earth did I come here to be?

And what is She like when no one is around?

And what does She feel like when she doesn’t make a sound?

That feels like a lot and I don’t really know,

Rest easy, little one, you’re already home.