“All certainty about all the things I’d previously felt confident about is being incrementally taken away from me. Mother is clever with words, and they don’t show on the outside, don’t leave scars and marks that other people can see. The signs are there of course, damaged children do tell you if you know how to read the signs. I know I still exhibit some of those sometimes when I watch people too closely, not feeling confident about their presence. This is a poem I wrote about it. Frozen Child I have a look, a certain kind of stare
that watches closely, intently.
A child monitoring her surroundings
for safety and unknown terrors. The watching appears rude, invasive,
but I’m not watching you,
just your body, for sudden moves,
just your face, in case it changes
from light to darkness.
It is that instant I await. Forewarned is forearmed
the child always ready,
prepared for the next attack,
never knowing where it will come from,
how it will manifest, just watching. A kind of stare, not looking at you
looking beyond at what might be there.”
―
Sylvia Clare,
No Visible Injuries