her bowl scorched hot
as smoking suns
for she was the
yellow bellied girl
who angered her mother
because she hid
inside
her hermit shell
and
-froze-
so her mother
scolded
” What is wrong with you?
All my friends will think
I beat you!”
and so
the mother yanked
at the girl’s small claw
’til it snapped
and smelled
like something scorched.
why was she
so unlike
other daughters
who wore neatly pressed
dresses?
she was the daughter
who fell apart
in a bowl of
soup
like some kind of foreign thing
she melted swimmingly
into her
surroundings
quietly dying
each time
her mother served
scorching hot
disappointment
and demanded to know
why
she was so
shy
Ah, this is so heavy and sad. I love how you juxtapose the scorched hot bowl with frozen in her shell. The misconception of many a parent is that all children should be a certain way and they do their best to make their kids something they are not. I don’t know why some parents simply cannot encourage their children to be who they are. I really like where this takes me, Kae.
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Thank you so much for ur kindness… the girl was me… I needed to write… bless you:)
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You are most welcome, Kae. I thought this was autobiographical as it is difficult to write something like this, so well, without not having first hand knowledge. Writing, to me, is therapy and it seems like it is for you, too. I was blessed the moment I read this because it touched me. You are a wonderful writer and I always, always enjoy your work. 🙂
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Thank you
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My pleasure!
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🙂
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You are a wonderful writer Kae, and thanks for sharing this intimate story. I just want to hug this little girl and tell her she is perfect. And you are 😊
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Oh…:)… luv:).. thanks so much
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