A Little Girl Named Bree and the Big "c" Word

I just read a post over at The Writing Canvas blog that will certainly tug at your heart. It is about a little girl named Bree who is fighting a battle that none of our children should be having to fight. She has cancer.

Bree needs a bone marrow transplant and they are trying to find a donor. Please visit The Writing Canvas for more information and links to information about joining the bone marrow registry. So many depend on these donations!

Please keep Bree and Braden and all of the little ones battling cancer in your prayers. Thank you!

Alone

I want to explain a little about the inspiration for this poem. First of all, this isn't about my daddy. He never did any such thing to me or anyone else. Although I have been assaulted as an adult, my childhood was free of this sort of abuse.

Over the course of my life, I have been involved with various families that have struggled through the emotional upheaval of abuse of this nature. It has happened to people in my extended family and in the families of friends. It crosses all social, economic, and racial lines. It is a crime that must be stopped.

This is my heart speaking for those that could not.

Alone

In the dark I sit alone in my room.
Not alone in body, there are people all around.
But alone in a way that only a broken spirit knows.
`````
I am crying the tears of years of abuse.
I see the shadow in the doorway.
Not a face, only the outline of the evil one.
```````
Who could it be? I am frightened.
Should I cry out? Would anyone hear?
Outside the thunder rumbles overhead.
``````
The shadow moves closer.
Still no face do I see on this intruder.
The footsteps grow louder.
```````
What does he want from me?
I am not a woman yet, I am only a child.
Why does he do these things to me?
``````
I am alone again and violated.
The wind blows, the curtain moves,
The lightening strikes, and I see his face.
```````
I cry out and no one comes to me.
Why does no one hear my cries?
I hide under my covers, so dirty and shamed.
`````
I cannot tell a soul what is happening to me.
They would not believe me anyway.
And mom said never do anything to get you in trouble.
``````
So, like Daddy's good little girl, I am quiet.
And outside, the thunder rumbles,
And the lightening strikes, and I am alone.

Written by Suzanne G. McClendon
© 5 May 1997

Ice Skating

I am not a big sports fan, but if I were to be involved in sports, I would want to be a figure skater. I learned to roller skate early on, and the last time that I attempted it, I still did a fairly good job of it.

I have never been ice skating. Though I know that it is hard work, it just looks so peaceful and unrestrained, like a heart set free to dance.

My favorite book when I was a little girl was The Silver Seven by Rita Ritchie, ©1972. I searched for years for a copy of this book, my original copy having been lost in the shuffle of time. I was able to find it again a year or so ago through an e-bay seller. It is also available now through amazon.com.

I was in second grade when this book came out, full of hopes and dreams of being a figure skater some day. I didn't know how that would happen since there were no ice rinks anywhere near my little South Carolina town. But I dreamed of it, and lived it through the pages of that little book.

What is a favorite book from your childhood?

The Silver Seven