My Inner Child

My Inner Child

by Linda Abrams Friesen ©1995

 
Upon the field all green and grassy,
Emerging in spectral state,
Arises a building, a fortress of shadows,
Empty, devoid of light.
White walls reach up to a steep, steel roof,
With angry, turreted eyebrows.
Dark windows stare out, rows of blank eyes,
Menacingly concealing, forbidding.
And in this place with no real substance,
A small child roams alone;
Down echoing halls, from room to room,
Searching for her childhood.
Her companions;  Terror-filled memories.
Helpless.  Hopeless.  How does she survive?
Mutely she wanders through dusty time,
Reliving each hellish moment.
Her footsteps are silent, relentless, haunted,
Pursued by unresting pain.
No comfort, no hope or haven
In this desolate, dark place.
These ghostly figures, the lost child,
And her prison...
Upon the field all green and grassy,
In the depths of my mind's eye.