Bridging the Gap

You like the world and the inside of your brain to match,

As if there is just one way for events to unfold:

Clean-cut and ripple-less.

You are straightforward, forward facing,

So full of certainty it can cut you

When the edge slips

Out of line.

And it always slips, my darling,

In this poorly executed sketch,

Where everything is a size too small,

Or just out 

Of reach.

And here you are now,

A disappointing stream, a friend not here - 

I saw your little shoulders slump,

Your self knocked out of certainty.

You have walked into the mist

And you're sitting on a rock

With your pink felt tip pen

And your supermarket sketch pad.

And the inside of your clear, sharp mind

Is fizzing out into words.

You show me them

And the hurt I know you feel

Is there on the page, but glistening - 

Your 9 year old brain has taken a hurt that outlives us both

And held it up to the light so it reflects colours I've never seen.

You have slipped between the cracks in the mirror

And woven a path for yourself.

Hold tight to this my lovely, hold tight:

It will bridge the gaps

And stop you falling through.