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Little Hands by Anne D.

Skipping across the street.
Little hands wrapped around mommy’s finger.
Hurry, don’t be late.
Quickly Cross the street.

Little Hands clutch Mommy’s leg.
Mommy is talking. I can’t see the ladies.
The desk is too tall.
I am too small.

Little hands Hold the crayons.
Green, Red, Blue, and Yellow.
I don’t stay in the lines.
Mommy says “be neater.”

Hurry Up! It’s almost time.
Mommy is reading a magazine.
She doesn’t notice me.
Little hands hold the lady’s finger.
She walks me to the room.

Little hands climb on the table,
and then she walks away and closes the door.
I tear the paper I’m supposed to sit on.
I watch the doorknob close.

Little hands scratching my tummy.
Mom is mad I am sick again.
I tried so hard not to be,
But I was bad again.

Little hands touch the doorknob.
Both hands try to turn.
I hear talking outside.
I don’t know what they say.

Little hands climb back on the table
And he comes through the door.
Little hands hug me.
He is so tall/I am so small.

He picks me up and smiles.
He calls me his little peanut.
Where is mommy? Where did she go?

Little hands he holds in his.
I try not to look.
A big belt buckle is just right there.
It looks cold. I am cold.

Little arms reach up.
Hands around his neck.
He whispers in my ear.
He says I am special and he has something for me.
I can’t breathe! I cant breathe!

Little hand pulls away.
I want my mommy bad.
Where did she go? I am alone,
Alone with this big man in the white coat.
My hands are little. His are so big.
They move all over me.

Little hands around him. It’s long and it is hard.
He says it’s ok to touch.
It feels good he says.
He says it makes him happy.
Little hands are holding him.
He feels happy. Why, oh why, don’t I?

About the Creator

Anne D.
I am a survivor of CSA at the hands of my childhood pediatrician. I suppressed this until my 40’s and I am now working on healing from this abuse. I am healing and gain much strength from other survivors.