She Still Cries For Me
By Beverly Greene
By Beverly Greene
NOTE: This poem is protected by international copyright laws and may NOT be reproduced in any form without the author's expressed and written consent.
I thought I let her go,
find refuge
in our soul
and draw from my strength
as she slept peacefully,
but she's been
lying awake
all these years,
quietly trying
to cry herself to sleep,
but to no avail.
I didn't,
couldn't,
can't
give her rest
or peace.
Her little body
wraps itself
to prevent intruders,
or stings,
or hands,
feet,
belts,
words.
She only wants
to go home,
the home
I thought
I'd allowed her.
I whisper tearfully,
"It's ok.
I'll take care
of you.
I'll protect you.
You can rest,
little one.
I know you're tired
and afraid,
but I'll keep
you safe."
She looks up,
her tears
blood red,
and questions,
"But will you
be able to stop
the truth?
The dreams
that I have
when you're awake
haunt only me.
Can you make
them go away?
Can you love me?"
I fall onto the bed
and lay beside her,
both of us
knowing the answer.
Two letters
slay her hope.
She curls up
in my ragged arms
and cries angrily.
Her tears
feel like the punches
I know she felt.
She weeps, screams,
"I hate you!
What did I do
that was so wrong
that you
can't even love me?
How can anyone else
if you can't?
Look into my eyes,
don't you find
some beauty left?
How could you
let them take
your vision
from you?
I went through it all.
I lived.
All I ask
of you
is to love me."
She falls back
into my arms again
and I hold her
with our soul
and find my voice
long enough
to tell her,
"I'm trying."
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� 1999 Beverly Greene owns all rights to this original poem.
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