Sometimes the inner child needs help to free herself
|Wrapped in a patchwork quilt of her own fears,
she hears footsteps approaching her unlocked
door, feels the bitter sting of welling tears,
knows it’s another memory she’s blocked.
How long can she live inside this dark cell,
afraid to let the light break terror’s spell,
held by unbreakable chains from her past
she curls within a pupa case of cast
iron. She hears the echoes of God’s pen,
she tests for weak spots in the prison’s walls
and finds the crack through which God’s Glory calls.
The chains that were unbreakable begin
to bend and link by link disintegrate;
her prison’s walls become an open gate.