Dear Little me,

If you asked yourself what you love most about yourself, you’d have to search long and far for the answers and I’m afraid you may not ever find an answer. So instead I’ll ask the me today, what do I love most about you- I love how resilient you are. Your ability to keep living through the darkest times of your life. You were unseen and in the shadows, but you still showed up despite the overshadow. You seemed to have always known deep within that something would eventually change. Although minute after minute, day after day, month after month, year after year that shadow just appeared to get darker and darker. I love that you always had a voice and used it. That voice- it might’ve been snobby. In fact, the label you obtained along the way and eventually decided to own- ‘miss attitude’ was accurate, you had every reason to be exactly who you were. You used your voice the best way you knew how. I love that you found an outlet in writing, although along the way you lost your light due to extreme darkness. Writing is how I found my way back to you so trust me when I say that too is ok. The absence just made your heart grow fonder. I love that although you missed your daddy, you always had a deep knowing that one day you’d meet him again and that everything would eventually be ok. You subconsciously knew this, how did you know is still a tale to be told- BUT I LOVE THAT ABOUT YOU. I love how you love despite your pains, you fought to stay alive even in the moments you thought everyone would be better off without you. You fought the inner dialogue of negative thoughts that played in your mind like a playlist of your favorite songs. You still fought. You fought through being silent about being sexually abused in your most innocent years of life. You were 5 years old babydoll, how did you carry that for 20 years alone? You have no idea how proud of you I am because you not only fought that tough battle girl, you’re a heavy-weight champ. One day you have to tell the world how you made it through that battle alive. Your resilience is unbelievable, indescribable, untouchable, and most of all admirable. I’m proud of you for fighting through because just like you needed me, I needed you. I’ve only become who I am today because of you Karyll. Because of you, I am strong. I am resilient. I’m untouchable. Because of you, I believe in myself without the need for external validation. It’s actually because of you that I know what true unconditional love feels like. Because of you, I am the woman who would hold you so tight and never let you go. I’ve become that woman that would have protected you. I’ve become that woman who would be able to see you and hear your silence. I’ve become that woman who could love you despite your attitude. I became the woman who could love you- despite the dark grey clouds that created the darkest shadows over what should have been your most innocent years. Because of you, I am ‘really Karyll’. I thank you in ways that this lifetime could not extend to. I love you. I’m proud of you. You are beautiful. I love and adore your entire existence. Thank you for never giving up on us.

– Sincerely, Really Karyll

My heart feels the cusp of what simply was
Simple – that’s what it was.
The days were gone like the wind as soon as my body counted to 12.
Those memories of being young are so deeply sewn into my back pocket.
A little boy who saw the world for what it was.
A vast ocean of dreams.
Inheriting wide, wild eyes; a simple yet regal gift for the tactful of heart.
My kaleidoscope of essence shows a bright path of shapes full of color and endless possibilities.
Dancing to Music and living like Movies.
Creating scripts and sub plots to fight the urge to be mundane.
Imagination can be a seamless experience.
A tool given to those who really need it.
To think my biggest feat is by design a child’s invention- my inner child’s invention.
A world brought together through an adolescent’s view of a lifeless world.
Who am I if not the director of my own life?
My inner child creates the stroll to the coffee shop into a whimsical paradigm that enchants your every step as you progress closer to buying your gift wrapped coffee with cream and two sugars.
It’s a difference of mind over matter.
Life is worth living when your inner child makes beauty of madness.
To my younger self it was never about getting over the shadows of the world but rather learning to live with those shadows and see light intertwined in the chaos.
The idiosyncratic nature of the world.

To my inner child
Look at you so headstrong, gentle, and just a little wild
Your love is both deep and wise beyond years
Matched with passion of the firebrand and chaos of electric storms
This world tried to twist you and break your heart
Yet never did you strike back with hate or malicious intent even when falling apart.
Ever as the life tree in a storm your limbs bent but never broke entire
When the storms came, and break was expected, in resilience our girl became a phoenix a fire.
Burned her forest glen to ash as she sits amidst the devastation
The inner child looks about with magic in her eyes
Low and behold new growth she spies…
Then guides my hand to a seedling amidst the ash
As she giggles and whispers in answer to the question unsaid “help it grow”

Dearest part of me, Little Bee
Always buzz buzz buzzing free
So happy and willing to be seen
Contrast to this self-effacing she
Where I breathe weak
Your bravery roots deep
Down to the depths of our trauma
Remaining after all these days
The Flora to my Fauna
You’ve had to be our Mama
In so many different ways
And carry us through difficulty
While loving unconditionally
Dancing boldly to wind’s song
Even when I have cold feet
You’re strong like an old tree
Gently swaying me along
Or sheltering when I retreat
You taught us to hope and dream
With the joy of playing dress-up
Our closet overgrown with good luck
Everyday still buds a new costume
You are my soul in full bloom
Forever young but older and wise
Growing together side by side
Branching us out with you our guide
Undoubtedly Love you’ll always be
The single greatest part of me

Dear Inner Child,

Your roots have spread across me and I am sprouting stories filled with melancholy. A child’s sadness is ripe and sour. Your sensitivity warms my chest, my darling, what happened isn’t your fault.

When the sun finds my cheek I am reminded
of your rioted simplicity, of your warm eagerness
shadowed with fear. If I could hold you, I would.
If you could love you, you would. It’s okay.
It was never your fault but
Do you think you deserved it?

I no longer do. Still, the memory inside me is wrinkled by guilt. When the grass runs through my fingertips I see bits of you sprinkled in the green. Your naivety,
your love. It feels like nostalgia spun
up my ribs with your vines. It was never our fault but

I’d still love you if it were. If the sun went down and never came up if the breeze ran still and the world went quiet,
I imagine I’d feel you rise within me like a marigold, yellow and familiar like grandma’s house.
Your resilience.

I’ll always admire that. The dark quiet holes you have dug yourself out of—your persistence of life.

Love,
You.

His right eye twitching,
That side smile brimming,
His urge to compete is a hungry feeling,
To gain greater Knowledge,
Produce more Excellence,
And be of great Service.

Be it second or third fourth or sixth,
He was first once but I plead the fifth,
Strong and Steadfast, that sounds like a myth,
Strove for Integrity, what a giff,
I am proud of his Assiduity,
Just like that time at the spelling bee.

Standing up that stage felt like finding a master key,
Though it would take a millennium for a win.
The hunger was there, fighting and yearning to be free.
Sadly the good foods were present where the eyes could see.

Despite the new size and no picks at football,
He won more accolades and kept walking tall,
In Shakespeare, he’s Shy-of-luck (Shylock) of the Venetian Merchant,
Then as a Thai King (King & I) asking for a dance, “oh perchance!”
With a high school year always being in the middle,
‘Til the last year where he stopped being second fiddle.

Full of stories of day and a different outlook,
Someone told him to settle down and write a book,
With his love of movies with monsters and fighters,
He picked the pen and wrote a hero-themed tiger.
He turned a weakness into a great strength,
He hated poems but now look at his depth.
If I haven’t said it yet, but now in front of this crowd,
From the very bottom of my heart, I am very proud.

How are you so care free?
What do you mean? I’m just living.
Huh, such a simple mindset that you have.
Well yea, where is the need to complicate things?
I…I guess you’re right, I’ve just forgotten how to ride the wave over the years.
It looks like you’ve gotten serious with the things that you should be playing with.
I love your free spirit and miss your going with the flow attitude. I wish I was able to get back to that again!
Wow… they sure did some work on us huh?
What do you mean?
You’ve lost your light being concerned with society. You’ve tired to control your life so much that you’ve suffocated yourself. I am not gone but you are killing me. So, if you want to be what you used to be, you got to let go and let me breathe.

love photos of
black bodies
dancing across screens
taken with stolen apertures

it’s a silly game me and the plane
play
back n forth
my skin not yet shiny enough
not yet translucent
theirs blasting with luminosity

wanna kiss the boy in that
picture
tell him he’s okay
don’t need to be no shiny dancer
but then again
who’s gonna kiss the little girl in
me
and tell her she’s alright
i’m scared they will drown her
in tales of african hymnals
from the mouth of an ivory individual
or maybe of lessons learned
through the guise of a
forgetful father or
intentional deceiver
either way lessons
engraved in the pretty
skull all the way

Do you remember how
we play in places like this-
rocky, tumultuous, blank?
How we take this stone hollow,
and make it hallowed with treasure:

A smooth pebble.
The feather Mom said would make us sick.
This perfect, crooked stick.

Let me tuck you in to this place
just for us, guarded by
a thicket of brambles.

Did you know fruit grows here,
like magic in the thorns?
Sometimes juicy, sometimes sharp,
always a gift.

Do all grown ups grow into caves?
Do you keep here empty on purpose,
so that little treasures can keep a home?
So sweet things can live inside?

M. McGonagle
2024