A Companion Like Glass
Sometimes, where I find respite,
My fixation is a gift.
As I wait at the door for my package to arrive,
My mind is set ablaze with beautiful memories
I will soon be able to create.
How is it
That something so simple,
So small and material as a doll,
Is able to bring such joy to my troubled mind, my anxious body, and my restless soul?
I've always been an imaginative boy.
As a child, my creativity stood out above the rest.
It was a blessing and a curse
As my life began to roughen-
I've never had an easy time-
It fueled my anxieties,
Of fists like sandpaper
And fingers like glass.
My mind was my escape.
Imaginary friends danced round my head,
And I gave life to my bears
And to my dolls.
Growing up, my dolls had names and personalities,
I gave them thoughts and feelings.
They provided for me love,
And I blew into them
Here we are again,
A boy sitting on his heels
As he waits for his toy to come in the mail.
A doll he could create again,
Both in its mind and body,
A doll like himself in some ways.
Perhaps it's therapeutic
To make a doll
Like one's younger self,
And make it so the doll was healed
With the comfort
Its owner was never awarded,
And perhaps this is just the ramblings of a young man
Sprouting out from the pieces of a broken child.