Now I know just what to do
With part of me that never grew
The little boy in stone encaged
That passing time has never aged
 
Now he knows he’s not alone
No longer there encased in stone
His need for help won’t be denied
An older me is by his side
 
I will take him by the hand
And together we will stand
Though what is gone is in the past
Through memories the pain can last
 
An ancient monster rose once more
Re–waking feelings from before
Memories of trust betrayed
Of pain and hurt in ranks arrayed
 
A monster rose he’d thought was dead
That he’d once known, from which he’d fled
He tried his best but couldn’t stay
He closed his eyes and turned away
 
At first he tried to close the door
He tried to shut it up once more
And yet he knew it wouldn’t rest
Its presence could not be suppressed
 
A long lost memory, concealed
That circumstance has since revealed
Confronted now and rightly seen
It’s not what is, but what has been
 
For what is lost is past and gone
We have to learn to carry on
We cannot change where we have been
Or wipe away what we have seen
 
We have to leave it in the past
Not bring it like a cobbler’s last
On which the shoes that represent
Life, are pulled and stretched and bent
 
Like a stone disrupts a stream
Or healthy sleep’s disturbed by dream
At first it all is much perturbed
But further on it’s undisturbed
 
The child now knows he’s not alone
That I am part of him full grown
Now he can leave the past behind
And try to rest his anxious mind
 
He has to know he need not fear
The past has passed and he is here
From this point he must move on
Not looking back at what has gone
 
He must not let those memories
Dominate the ‘now’ he sees
He must go on, go through the pain
And find that he can live again
 
The present now is what we know
And in the present he can grow
Though some things past still linger there
He can move on but must take care
 
Something said with good intent
Brings back the pain he thought was spent
The agony that hurt so much
Re–woken by a careless touch
 
They ask, they probe with sharpened pick
In places which may make him sick
What do they know? What do they care?
About the hurt they cause him there
 
Why do people think they know
For everyone which way to go?
They are not here. They cannot feel
What for us, is our real