I reached into spacetime
And grasped the tiny hand
Of the crying little boy
Who was made to go away.
“Who are you?” I asked.
In an oddly familiar voice,
He answered, “Goodness.”
Suddenly I remembered.
I pulled him to me
And we became one–
Again.
I reached into spacetime
And grasped the tiny hand
Of the crying little boy
Who was made to go away.
“Who are you?” I asked.
In an oddly familiar voice,
He answered, “Goodness.”
Suddenly I remembered.
I pulled him to me
And we became one–
Again.
michaeljordahl 
Oh. My… Goodness! I truly love this one, Michael! ~Ed.
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I am going to reblog. If you’d rather I didn’t, I will pull it back.
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Reblogged this on ~ Trivial Music Silliness ~ and commented:
I can’t even. Michael Jordahl knocks it out of the park with this simple, beautiful piece. I confess to lingering awestruckedness.
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Thank you so much. This was hard to write for me as I’m still coming to terms with my childhood abuse.
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That makes this even more powerful.
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What a powerful poem!
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Thank you, Susan! It started out way too long,but I pared it down.
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That’s amazing. And end is pleasant surprise 🙂
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Thank you, Ruqia. I’m glad you liked it!!
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This is a beautiful and touching poem!
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Thank you, Tut!!
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You’re welcome, Michael 😊
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nice and wise . love all
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Thank you, ram!!
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I’m just learning more about that child I carry with me. It’s remarkable how well they hide, isn’t it? Lovely poem. I’d love to see the longer version.
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Thank you, Maggie, is it? It’s a bittersweet thing, to lose yourself to preserve that wonderful inner child
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It’s Maggie to some, Meg to others. It is. Bittersweet. I’m reading “For Your Own Good” by Alice Miller. It’s revelatory.
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