The Wandering Child

I have to get the words out. I can't keep the pain in. Sometimes it hurts so bad. I am wounded each time I see it happen. My heart is stabbed again and again. The aching comes from that soft spot of my heart being hurt again. Don't you see it happening? Can't you feel it too? The sad reality is I think I am the only one who sees it, or at least one of the few. 

It seems everyone else is living in a fog. Living in a bubble where nothing bad happens. They see everything as good and peaceful. They think everything is okay. When I see the blank stare looking back at me, a part of me dies. The burden is too much to bear.

I pray for grace. I pray for peace of mind. Each time I see that image, those faces staring back at me, I am made aware. This is not a game. This is not a dream. This is reality. So many little faces. So many who have no one who cares. So many kids go without clothing and without food. But the scariest thing to me are those who don't know what love feels like. They don't know the gentle feel of lips pressed against their soft skin. They don't know what it feels like to have their most basic needs met. 

They only know pain. They only know how to fight. To get up each day and try to survive. They don't know what it's like to have structure. A bedtime. A routine. 

They only know chaos. They only hear mindless chatter. Buzzing and humming in their ear. "Don't touch this. Don't break that. What ARE you doing? Didn't you hear me?"

The child says, "No, I didn't hear you." You never heard me. You never heard my cries. No, you did hear them but you chose to ignore me. You weren't attentive to me. I've wandered aimlessly around and around in search of security. I found none. Just empty arms that didn't want me when you became too tired. Too tired to listen. Too tired to anything. Too tired to feed me.

And so I wander. From person to person. Every time I am rejected, I have to wonder, "Do I really matter?"

Is it just convenient to have me around? Yet other times, I am too loud. I am too much for you to handle. You said so yourself. 

I am your child. I am human. I have feelings. Someone, somewhere thinks I matter. Someone, somewhere cares. Someone, somewhere loves me. This keeps me going. This helps me deal with the craziness, the unpredictability. I find comfort in the arms of another. It doesn't matter who, please just hold me. If only for a minute.