Fledgling
written by: Claire Francis Lloyd
@TeabooksTardis
I watched detached
The whole thing unfolding
As he moved in
Predator circling
Oblivious prey.
And looking back
At that child in that dress
That made me so uncomfortable
And on edge,
I wonder…was it even me?
And in hindsight,
How strange it seems to me
I didn’t cry
Never even screamed,
It once angered me.
I turned to stone
Stationary and numb
I never said a word, shed a tear,
I felt small
And I was small and frozen with fear.
Like a young deer
Confused by the head lights
On a dark road
Feeling cornered and lost
But in my own home.
Stuck to the bed
Eyes glued to the TV set,
Watching some cartoon with a great beast
Painted purple
But the real beast was there with me.
And we were blood
And me, a small pale child
Like a fledgling
Stepping on egg shells
Trapped by crude wings.
But I know now
My silence, my muteness,
Was my defense and not my weakness
To stay safe,
Whilst I strengthened my little wings
For my flight to freedom.
© 2016. Claire Frances Lloyd
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This poem is about my childhood, and one particular very traumatizing experience. It’s taken me over twenty years to even write this down and so for me this is something of an achievement. I just wanted to share it with the world.
When she's not drinking tea and reading books she's usually binge watching supernatural or science fiction themed TV shows online. She occasionally paints but prefers to draw and sometimes she even makes things with her clumsy hands.
