An organised mess

To my inner child

Dear Renee, 

I'm sorry it has been a while since we spoke, 

but every act you do and every word you say is a reminder that I left you broke. 

I'm sorry that no one heard your cries, 

silent tears are the kind that leave stains behind. 

I'm sorry that every time you want to be reckless and play, 

I push you deeper into the ocean, neglect you and watch you drown, 

I never let you stay. 

Renee, 

I'm sorry I never gave you permission to feel sad, 

the adult I became at 8, persuaded me that feeling sad was bad. 

I should have nurtured you and cleansed your soul, 

but I was scared that if I faced your pain we wouldn't have made it old. 

Little Renee, 

I'm sorry that every time you try to speak I run away, 

I'm scared that when you speak your truth I won't be able to face the pain. 

I'm sorry that I left you all on your own in fear, 

I'm sorry you keep trying to communicate and I keep choosing not to hear. 

Dear Renee, 

I'm ready to listen, if you give me a chance to hear you now, 

I'm ready to let you be you, I am ready to set free the doubts. 

If you are still there, and you were not restrained for too long, 

I hope you can tell your story and sing your song, 

and this time when you are singing, 

instead of trying to muzzle your mouth, 

I will sing along. 

I want to cradle you, and tell you everything is going to be OK, 

I want to watch you explore, and I will make sure you are safe. 

You do not have to be an adult now, 

leave that to me, 

I will guide you and hold your hand, 

as you run, 

wild, young and free.