Broken Little Ones
A letter to the children in us all who’ve forgotten we are but stardust
Hello little one
Life is hard I know
Your soul, all tattered and bruised
Broken little ones leave you used
Hope has gone
Dreams have flown
I’m so sorry
You feel all alone
Be kind with yourself
You’re doing your very best
Do not give up just yet
Tell your stories
Draw, paint, and dance
You are but stardust and magic
Give it another chance
Worry not what others think
Life is far too short
And passes in a blink
Do what you feel
Mean what you say
Not even the devil himself
Can steal your light away
About the Creator
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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