A quiet child with nothing to say
As Mommy and Daddy were going in separate ways.
Caught in between with her big sister.
A child a little too young to have a stony heart.
Body too small to hold in such pains in two different households.
“Hey kiddo, why don’t you talk to me?”
Concerned, frustrated, and confused.
She feels an ache to speak, to explain, but nothing comes out.
Held back, restricted. Why try?
Quiet kid just stares on,
Staring through her father.
“Here, sissy, let me show you something!”
Concerned, helpful, knowing.
Quiet kid watches words being made on paper.
Watches her sister show her the art of writing.
A new voice, just as quiet, quiet kid learns she has.
A pen talking to paper.
Expressive, flowing, imaginative.
Words of pumping blood and breathes of life.
Quiet kid finds the escape from her own quiet.
Hey quiet kid, I know you.
You’re me, looking in the mirror.
You learned the art that helped me, us.
I thank you.
With your art, you saved me.