Inquietude

As I see the world through newborn eyes,

I plea for comfort with persistent cries.

Dare I dream for answered prayers,

or even for a Teddy Bear?

No it isn’t there.

Is it love or obligation,

and little other care she gives me?

Perhaps its pity.

No it isn’t there.

I learned to grow and walk and reach.

but what did all my efforts teach,

That waiting and waiting toward empty arms,

would cause me so much harm.

Seeking a replacement sent me to the basement,

to have my innocence lost.

Loves labors brought forth fear,

hence forth, inquietude gave birth to mistrust,

and mistrust to tears.

Frozen in this cycle that I am given.

Farther from my childhood I am driven,

Trapped in the darkness with no way out,

and of this atrocity I know nothing about.

They see only limits and no potential.

All my questions are unanswerable.

They see nothing, they know nothing.

I am invisible.

As I live within my prison walls,

it’s not that I can not see at all.

For I can see in the distance normalcy and hope,

and the understanding that with effort I can cope.

I can see that in my heart there is reason,

to my birth.

For through my mothers labor pains,

there is a gift.

Not that she could see.

Not that anyone could see.

Only me.

Only for a while.

Someday they will see.

Someday when I am grown.

I will bust out of my prison walls.

Even if I have to crawl.

I will escape.

I will emerge a survivor.

I will rise above it all.

Through this gift that I was given,

I will prove that I have my own reason for living.

Not to just exist but to thrive,

All  my invisibleness will be revealed.

All will know that I am alive!

Linda Booth


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