Loving friends, advisors and teachers surrounded the child.
When they talked to her, she answered them aloud.
One day her mother heard, and asked,
“Who are you talking to?”
Blushing, she answered, “Them.”
At supper her mother told the family that she had imaginary friends.
They laughed. The child burned with shame.
She stopped talking to her friends aloud,
And could no longer hear their counsel and comfort.
She was left alone.
When she grew old, loving grandchildren surrounded her.
They taught her to play again.
They healed her blinding, deafening shame.
She and the children sang and painted pictures.
They banged on the piano, danced and ran outside in the rain.
She even wore suns and moons on her clothes.
Her invisible friends, advisors and teachers returned.
Surrounding her once again,
They counseled her and she answered them, aloud.
The child that was lost is found.
I experienced grandparenthood as a miraculous re-awakening of the child within. Then came all kinds of new possibilities. Chapter 12 of my book begins with this poem and tells of a guided imagery journey that served as a soul retrieval. A hands-on-healing reveals how I had harbored patriarchy within myself while railing against it in the world. It was the month of my 5th chemotherapy treatment. My mother, who was only 87 then, 11 years ago, came to take care of me. What an intense time that was.
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