Six Years Old

This poem was inspired by Alison Nappi’s poem: An Open Love Letter to Your Inner Child

(–madness/an-open-love-letter-to-your-inner-child )

Mare Martell, aged 6

Mare Martell, aged 6

Your story took my age away and I became six again.

It sucked the breath out of my lungs

Replacing it with looks of befuddlement

That I got from grown-ups when I tried to explain

how I saw things or

what I saw and when.

An adult would often correct me

Explaining how it appeared in their world,

but magic existed before I knew it

before it claimed the runes of mystical auras.

I want to write this love letter to my six year old self

but not like this,

similar but with different color crayons

and different paper,

maybe bark or finger paints.

As I look through the eyes of my youth

I see what I saw then clearly

That crack in the sidewalk didn’t exist

as much as it was the seaside beach

where fairies lived and robins played.

I was taught that my visions were faulty

So I quit trusting them, I quit believing I understood things

I doubted what my spirit knew as absolute

I thought I was wrong for thinking in shapes or

pictures that had words labeled on them, but did not define them.

I heard you.

I’m so glad you remembered me

Way back then when mud pies were important and dolls drove matchbox cars.

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