Go play, little boy!

One fellow survivor responded to my recovery poetry by emailing me this poem:

Come here, little boy.
Come out of the darkness,
if only for a moment.

I have a secret to say;
You must hear.

They are fools who believe
they can kill you,
just fools
who strut round
with small sticks in their hands.

They are fools who believe
that their voices can kill
and their small feeble hands
can take life from the living--
they fool just themselves.

Now I've told you.
Go play.
Go elsewhere and play in the grass and the wind.
For fools remain fools;
And the grass will be grass
Though the winds beat upon it forever--
Go play.

Copyright (c) 2006 by Anonymous Survivor

Go play! How wise! We who were abused need to learn to play. We need to recover our lost childhood. Listen to the last lines of the poem again:

And the grass will be grass
Though the winds beat upon it forever--
Go play.

Wow! Thank you, friend, for sharing your poem.