Speaking to the Inner Child

I want to pick up the child I used to be and hold her.

I know better than anyone what she has gone through.

The heartbreaks she’s felt and will feel.

The secrets that she’s had to keep.

I want to look at the little girl who was me,

look upon my own face, the wide,

not yet world-weary blue eyes.

I want to scoop her up and hold her.

I want to shield her from all the cruelty in the world.

Protect her from the harm, from the violation.

Kiss her forehead and run a hand through her hair.

I want to tell her that she’s loved and that she’s worthy,

that the things that happened to her weren’t her fault,

that things will be okay.

She was a child.

She couldn’t have known.

I want to hold her in my arms, tether myself to her again,

remind myself that this child is me.

That maybe it’s me

that needs holding.

Needs a kiss on the forehead

and a hand running through her hair.

Needs someone to tell her

she is loved,

she is worthy,

That things will be okay.

That it wasn’t her fault.

I was a child

I couldn’t have known.

So who am I?

The hand that reaches out to the child,

Or the child that flinches away?

Tara Tevald '24 is the junior editor of Pitch. She likes to spend her free time writing and reading fantasy stories.