The Sunday Muse
With stories of the happy princes and princesses
A childhood stagnated on a canvas of seamless fairy tales
There were moments when holding tightly to a little friend
Those tales belonged to another world.
Deep rooted fears erupted within those four walls
Waiting and trying to make some sense of the chaos
The loud noises, and the screaming voices
Shook the vulnerable heart, clutching on unshed tears.
There were days when inanimate expressions
Erased the lines of aching fear and broken dreams
How wonderful it was to have and hold
Someone who would listen, sooth and heal without uttering a word!
If one could have that same sense of security
In the waning evenings of a lifeless reality!
Participating in : The Sunday Muse
A veritable army of porcelain dolls lie in attics and antique shops, all filled with bits of reality shared with little girls now grandmothers with fond memories of their company.
ReplyDeleteVery true. Those dolls were saviors.
DeleteDolly knows all, tells nothing. The best kind of confidant.
ReplyDeleteSure she is :)
Delete"How wonderful it was to have and hold / Someone who would listen, sooth and heal without uttering a word!" - for sure!
ReplyDeleteSure sure :D
DeleteLots of sympathy from those much loved dolls. My sister also had a BFF imaginary, in whom she could confide.
ReplyDeleteNice write. Sunita. Too bad little kids are subject to scaring adults. My dad was terribly mean to Mom, and to me.
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My sympathies, Jim. Well, that was another world which had no child support or counsellors.
DeleteYour words bring dolls into sharp focus, make me realise that, thanks to being born in 1941, dolls were never a part of my youngest years. I was eleven before I had a proper 'baby doll' , but by then I had real baby cousins to 'play' with, and didn't feel I'd missed out on anything!
ReplyDeleteHow lucky you are Jinsky, But there are many who found or still finds solace in the company of those voiceless friends :)
DeleteYes a doll listens and does not tell nor critique. A lovely poem for the image Sunita!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carrie :)
DeleteSometimes the best friend is the one who silently listens. And is always there.
ReplyDeleteTrue that :)
DeleteI can only imagine how many identify with the emotion, message, story in your poem ... well done.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Helen :)
DeleteSunita, I feel the yearning for safety and comfort, found in a doll as a child and dreamed of as an adult. {{{HUGS}}}
ReplyDeleteYou touched the truth to a degree, Lisa :)
DeleteOh if dolls could talk, I think they would speak this poem. Great write
ReplyDeleteThank you, Susie :)
DeleteI wasn’t drawn to dolls, until I got into my teens — and they weren’t porcelain… 😉. Excellent write Sunita. Perhaps someday all those abandoned dolls will return seeking their owners. I feel a Stephen King movie brewing… 😱
ReplyDeleteHahahahaha.... you have an intriguing imagination, Rob :D. Stephen King is bored with the dolls in his movies :P
DeleteEvocative poem--the not-quite-permeable fairy stories and the solid presence of the doll are vivid.
ReplyDeleteThank you,Chrissa :)
DeleteGreat piece of writing, Sunita!
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot :)
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