[WARNING: This is not a children’s story; even though, oddly enough, it is one child’s story.]

 

Once upon a time,

there was a little girl

born to a family that felt totally alien to her.

For their part,

the family said the little girl was backward,

cowardly, overly-sensitive, rebellious and loud-mouthed.

So, the little girl’s language was choked off into poetry;

her feelings channeled into 6 musical instruments, including her voice.

The little girl was not told she had a musician’s temperament;

that her musical-lyrical expression was something

to be used for anything other than

her family’s immediate gain: Recognition as a Christian Family.

(When nothing about the family’s internal workings was christian.)

 

There were all 6 types of abuse practiced by the little girl’s family: verbal, emotional, mental, physical, sexual and spiritual.

One for each musical instrument.

 Who SAYS when shit happens we can’t grow healthy in spite of it

by climbing on top of it, making it the roots of our fertilizer?

 

Post Script: It took the little girl quite a ways into adulthood to figure out she had overcome her past.

 

 

 

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