Dukes up.
Boxing gloves on.
Ready for the big fight, flight, or, freeze.
The tiny girl punches wildly, as she screams and cries,
for help,
without much thought,
or any real provocation.
She is terrified,
once terrorized.
She needs to find a pair of kid gloves,
NOT boxing gloves.
She stops punching, but keeps her boxing gloves on
until she knows she can locate kid gloves.
She searches.
When she was teeny weeny, she didn’t get kid gloves, but now,
She finds them in a nanosecond.
When the girl puts the kid gloves on her hands,
Something happens.
The kid gloves embrace her entire being with a foundation of love, trust and safety.
Her body, mind, heart, soul, and
every frayed or scarred bit of her gooey center
become encased in the beautiful protection
of her kid gloves.
Now, she is safe to surrender.
Dukes down.
Surrendered.
Onward.
