why are you always leaving //

“Why are you always leaving me!”.

She screams. Silently. On the outside, she smiles, nods her head; mature acknowledgment of the greater purpose and lesson. Inside, fire. Just keep it together; don’t let them see your heart breaking.You have to be strong. You have to be understanding. You have to be gracious in the presence of pain and disappointment.

“But what about me!”, she demands.

“What about me?”, she asks softly; eyes cast down (don’t let them see you cry).

“Why are they always leaving?”

“Why does nobody stay to keep me safe?”

“What did I do wrong?”

Nothing little one, it was never about you. You are magic. In your kindness, your big, big love, your sensitivity, your pain and vulnerability. You don’t have to be strong. You can fall apart and fall down. I’ll be right here to pick you back up. I know this burden, heavy on your shoulders like 1,000 pounds of red brick; hot from baking in the sun; breaking your back, searing your skin.

I know it’s heavy.

I know it burns, deep.

I know little one.

You don’t have to be strong, but you are.

You don’t have to put on a brave face, or be good, or polite.

You can cry and scream and break; stomp around if you like.

You have permission to be big or small, to be loud or quiet; to be, You.

I know that weight is so, so heavy; why don’t you put it down here for a moment.

Rest your head on my shoulder; close your weary eyes.

I’ve got you, little one, I’m here.

-Conversations with my little Self; learning how to be here for Her, for Me, for Us.