LITTLE BALLERINA

Tiny bundle of white clad sadness
swaying to Tchaikovsky in the mirrored hall,
curl those frail arms around yourself
your scars show under the tutu, but never mind,
for this once you're an angel in the skies
just this once become the star of the Russian ballet,
curve you body into the shape of irony
stain the room with your unbridled sorrow- agony,
forget the man who waits at home to hit you
forget the marks on your back from the cruel belt,
My little ballerina in white stretch your arms towards heaven
I can't catch your fall but I'll try to feel them all,
with the music coming to its doomed finale, with the last piano note
she bows her fragile neck and stretches her hand to cradle her legs,
in that unreal pose she stops breathing and wishes it would all end
but she finally stands up and smiles from under her tears,
the world has not stopped moving, she's just a girl with scars
who must go home to the man who waits with cruel smirks, and crueler hands.




A Poem dedicated to all the children who suffer abuse at home. My tears will never reach you but I hope my prayers do. God bless you.

Huthuka Chishi

Picture credit-scenesfromthewild.blogspot