When the child in my soul cries,
There’s no one to put her
Over a comforting lap but I.
There are not many words I can actually
Tell her, as her eyes glaze over the same,
Old, tired pain that never goes away.
She just doesn’t grasp it,
As baby zebras don’t get the why
Of the lioness’ chase.
The child in my soul still doesn’t know
That some things just are.
Some thoughts don’t change.
Some people are in so much pain that
They need to hurt, over and over again,
For that’s all they know and understand.
My soul child just wishes for
All to be like in dreams.
So she extends her hand to the scorpion
Hoping that maybe, perhaps, this
Time it won’t bite, at least not so badly.
It always does.
And it always hurts.
And as I sit her on my lap,
And sight, and hum, as I pray
She will someday learn
To let the scorpion go away.