Child That Was You
by Fleur
They took the child that was you and stifled her breath. Told her how to sit, how to stand, how to eat, how to keep quiet even though no one was there to listen. Threw dirt over the nascent flames of her fire, your fire, packed tight until you couldn’t move. Where is she to be found, that child, under the dirt? Can you hear her cries with your ears stuffed with cotton?
You were raised to think she didn’t matter, turned your back on her to make things easier for yourself. I do not blame you, so many do the same. all my little survivors sat in a row trying to bring a spark to life in their eyes in a world made grey. Yet without the child-like wonder, what beauty is there left for you to see? Where is the magic, where is your youthful spirit that could turn every street into a wonderland? You suffer each day but they robbed you of your voice, too, of the ears you turn inward. When did you last hear your own voice?
My girl, my woe-man, the one who could be so much had they not been so afraid of you. When will you notice? When will you look up? Your old Baba Yaga is waiting for you at the edge of the forest and I have the child, yes dear, I kept her safe all these years with all your sisters. They fear me and the ancient power I hold, they know what hell I could unleash on them – but I am so old.
I am dying, dear one, with every one of you they take and break and hide below the earth and stone, heavy slabs keeping you from rising up again. Every blow, every insult you choose not to hear, every effort made to not look back in fear – I pay the price for you, because I see and adore you, feed the spark in the depth of your chest with what little kindle I can find lying around in this dark, damp forest.
Babies, infants, wailing into the dead of eternal night and I am tired. I cannot bear the brunt of this violence alone. Just like I have been there for you, I ask you now to be here for me. Will you? Will you stand and spit in their face, will you take back the child that was you, eat her up, Saturn, belly swollen and mind ablaze with the colours they wanted to keep from you? Or will you arch your back and become old like me, frail like me in body, spirit soon to follow? Does your desire to protect not extend to yourself?
They took the child you once were before you were even born. They robbed her with their laws and their stares and their whistles, kicked her down and she could never dream, no, not even in my arms as I waited for the other you, the dead you, to come back for her. Old Baba Yaga I know, I know, I gather you all in my mortar and keep the child-you safe, but you have been sent into the world and beaten down, haven’t you? Can you imagine it any differently? I don’t blame you, I don’t blame you.
My skin sags and my knees bump against each other, not much meat in my legs to keep the bones from jutting out. I was never a pretty sight, it was not my place – never meant for men, for those of them beasts, to look at me with a smile on their face. Those who do are the kind of wolves no one told the Little Red Riding Hood about, the ones that were harmless. Me I am losing my teeth, my ability to hiss and to bite, to signal danger to those who want to further the harm they have already caused.
Have you heard enough? Will you please ride with me a little longer?
The sun is setting and night, beautiful and cold, is setting in. When was the last time you looked Old Age in the face without fear? Do you feel you were born old, as you were never young? My child, there is so much for me to say, but my words of praise fall flat. I need you to do more, I need you to show your own teeth and learn fast for I am soon to be replaced. Who else will roam this forest when I go? Who will protect the little ones from the harm of weapons that spit fire or draw blood or streak your face with tears? This fight has gone on for so long, my little girl, your old Baba feels empty.
Tell me, do you hear it too? The sound of those who have come, just like you, to the edge of the woods with thorns in the soles of their bare feet. Those who listened just like you to the ramblings of an ageless creature who wept for you before you even drew your first breath? They are gathering across the globe, distance be damned. They raise their face to the sun and know this world is for them to command, for them to walk on. They do not feel the pinpricks in their feet any longer, nor the crawling ants or the backstabbing stares. See how loud they exist, how deep they breathe, and join them – your sisters, your siblings, the children curled up within themselves. Young and shining like gold, and don’t you feel young again? Don’t you feel the sunlight on your face, don’t you want to bask in their glory and courage and pride?
Because I do, I do.
Look at your feet, sweet one, wild cub, and see for yourself: here is the child that you once were, the child that you should have been. Don’t you want to embrace it? Don’t you want to be powerful, in charge? If you do I do, if you will I will. I bear the weight of the infants never retrieved, the loss of minds that were dulled into invisibility. Take the colours, paint the sky red with rage, yell! Please scream, my daughter, my kin; be loud and for the love of your old hag here hold it close to your chest, the child that you once were. Cherish the freedom of the time you did not understand their laws, let loose, ban the rigidity of mind and body they cursed onto you!
Is there more? Is that enough? Will the tears you shed as you become whole again spur you on, or
will you lose your path again? Will they take it out of you, will you fight? Will you fight to protect yourself and in so doing, protect all those to come after you? I cannot survive alone, I need your intent, I need the magic in your deep dark eyes and I will weep, too.
Will you be strong, in the true sense of the word?
I braid my faith in your hair like dew drops, pearls catching the eye if you polish them, and you will, won’t you? If you keep the child close.
Time has come for me to go, but remember you are never alone. Remind others, too, those deprived of a roof or loving arms, take them for yours as I have done for you. Keep me alive in your booming voice and gentle smiles until the seasons turn and I become the infant once more. This forest will be your home as long as you need it, the wilderness ready to set you free any time your legs will itch to run with the wolves.
I see you go, little girl, brave child, and your long hair reminds me of mine.