from what I just wrote -
"Let me be the helper I will always be".
Why is this me?
What was I told? What do I see?
Where was I when I was asked?
to be that one, to lift that past?
To shine my little torch under the floor,
and see a 'lake'
under the kitchen table!!
To see a concrete wall under the extension!
where no air can flow
under the old wooden floor!!
When someone built walls to hold up roofs
that leaked rainfall to old tree roots
buried under the old cottage.
But we cannot live on a false foundation.
The 'lake' came down from the dairy up the grassy hill.
The ducks were in the garden
but the damp, dripping wet slab
was under the bed, and the cupboards,
under the tables and under the wardrobe.
And I was under the thumb of 'the intruder'.
My cottage, my deep distress,
my shock, his ultimatums.
A chance for him to over-ride my choices,
my boundaries, my professional guidance
and my sense of safety.
That was 33 years ago.
I made a choice, not to paint over that.
Not to falsify,
or paste over stains upon the wall,
or the white-ants and rot beneath the floor.
It seemed, there was no way to go.
Which comes to my long way,
and long time, rebuilding.
Without giving away myself.
I notice now, when I land in the muddy times,
I have a hot shower.
I keep still. I pray for Grace.
Previously, for many decades,
my pattern was to keep on going,
hide my hyper-vigilance, my distress,
my deep sadness,
and just keep doing all I can to fix things.
To be helpful. Always.
To help others find their way,
and I saved the day. I saved years and years.
I was always exhausted.
I painted over ever room within me.
I shone brightly like a blonde.
Always numb with my pain.
And I think I am going okay!
But I have always given myself away.
I was the warm smiling frozen babe,
then an active young mother with wonderful children.
Then later again,
I was frozen under that kitchen lake,
and my first own cottage
was another home to troubles that roamed.
For the small girl I had known,
is waiting for me,
to go down and see,
to welcome old pain,
to tenderly reveal,
and slowly to heal
any unseen walls, under carpeted floors,
where light now streams,
where creeks are flowing,
where ice is melting and warmth arises,
where most days glow
with happy surprises.
PS.
One day as a young girl
I was asked to help in the kitchen,
to do the washing up. Please dry the dishes.
Please help.
Yes Barbara means "Little Helper"! (True story)
And Blondie, and Barbie, and Bee
were good little helpers along the way.
And as I go soon to say,
Helping is good, useful, caring and kind>
No comments:
Post a Comment