Your Buried Child
 

Oh, listen up, I've got something I must say with much ado,

About the strange thing that happened that took your child from you!

Not their arms, not their legs, not their skin, and not their hair,

But their wonder, wildness, laughter, but most of all, their flair!

Their anger and their crying, their dancing and their play,

Their innocence and boundaries, their brightly dawning day!

So quietly they disappeared and were taken far away.

Those twenty-seven precious treasures, each one beyond compare,

Each one your small child gave through you, expressing everywhere!

​

Then someone came a-calling—a parent or a teacher—

And said, "Hush now, hush! You're too wild a creature!"

Your child heard it clear as a bell that gave them fright:

"To be loved, I must trade in my radiant delight!

So I made up my mind in a flash, I was so very fraught,

‘I must bury my joy,’ my mind believed that thought."

Your child didn’t choose with clarity or care,

But because it seemed they MUST when they got snared into THAT lair!

​

But nothing was lost forever, your child just took a fall—

Your child's still so alive, just buried behind a wall!

Your blooming just un-bloomed, but your child never died—

Waiting there and hoping, let them know they need not hide!

​

This isn't a mandate made by just your child alone—

It has permeated societies since before a time was known.

The grown-ups all believe it, the whole damn world agrees:

"Win praise and dodge the blame—that's their motto and decree!"

So your child, who wanted nothing but to love and have a home,

Traded wildness for some praise, so no longer can they roam.

Believing in that myth, the greatest, toxic lie,

That silly and accepted cannot live happy side-by-side!

​

But nothing was lost forever, your child just took a fall—

Your child's still so alive, just buried behind a wall!

Your blooming just un-bloomed, but your child never died—

Waiting there and hoping, let them know they need not hide!

​

Let's give a name to this quiet inside theft,

The casting out those living gifts, it’s left you so bereft.

Not "broken," not "lost"—no, it's something that you did,

You disowned your very essences that from yourself you hid.

“Selfunowning,” it is called—by “force” you sold your soul,

And caving to that pressure, you gave up your being whole.

Now with clear-eyed re-owning, let’s invite your child back home,

Re-owning who you really are, your aliveness will freely roam!

​

But nothing was lost forever, your child just took a fall—

Your child's still so alive, just buried behind a wall!

Your blooming just un-bloomed, but your child never died—

Waiting there and hoping, let them know they need not hide!