Imploringly staring up at you
desperate to reach your eyes, your heart.
You direct your glance away,
avoiding her pleading gaze.
alone, fretful
Trying to keep abreast of your footsteps,
she’s running, almost tripping now.
You merely quicken your stride,
leaving her unable to level up.
alone, despaired
Stretching her small soft fingers up
Hoping to grasp your hand, at last.
Sharply, too sharply, you pull away,
never once acknowledging her touch.
alone, afraid
Now she cries, wishing, as ever
for you to hear her; to comfort her.
You cover your ears, so her tears fall silent,
leaving her discounted, yet again.
alone, abandoned
Cold, cowering child, pushed from sight,
your little self struggles to move, grow.
She cannot heal in absence of acceptance.
Until the day you finally draw her close,
alone, exiled
no longer.
Photo by Syarafina Yusof on Unsplash
Judith Staff
Judith Staff’s background is in teaching and early years education. She still teaches occasionally, though now her main focus is in child welfare and safeguarding children. Her work includes delivering training, presenting at conferences, and engaging in collaborative projects with schools around child abuse awareness and sexual violence prevention. She enjoys writing blogs and poetry on topics she feels passionate about. Judith loves running, gym classes and karate. She is married to an art lecturer and they live in Northamptonshire, England with their three free-spirited children, a 12- year-old son, and daughters aged 11 and 9.
Very touching . Well done.
So lovely and haunting. Great work, J! x