once upon a time
i watched and waited
as mother sewed,
her nimble fingers stitching the
last now one, two, three
stitches, and then she
draped it,
finished, lovingly around
my shoulders, kissed me
on the cheek, and pulled
up the hood.
“When you are in the woods,
daughter, always wear the hood up.”
my name is Katharine. not red.
nor riding hood.
i skipped into the heart
of the forest that day
wearing the red she chose
instead of the green
i really wanted-
distracted by picking
delicate white flowers-
sniffing their aroma,
pushing the hood
back only for a moment.
from behind
a familiar voice-
“Where are you going little girl?”
i turned around slowly-
dropping my flowers.
he towered over
me as I looked up
his teeth, so white-so sharp,
his nostrils, quivering
he stepped closer,
i inched back,
pulling my hood up,
saying, just above a whisper,
“To grandmother’s house.”
i wanted to run-
but I didn’t.
he nodded, confident
sly, bowing politely
licking his lips, waving goodbye
as he hurried away-
anxious to get to grandmother
first- the appetizer before
the main meal
-me.
i felt the small axe
tied to my waist-
a gift from grandmother
for my eighth birthday-
its handle smooth
its blade sharp
i gripped it tightly
under my cape
as i innocently walked
through her front door.
“The better to see you with my dear…”
i
fell
into
the
hollow
of
the
wolf’s
belly.
i couldn’t move.
i couldn’t see.
silenced by his dark belly-
but i found the axe,
chop, chop, chop
using it to create
my own space,
cutting through the thick walls
escaped, emerged-
born again.
I killed the wolf.
And grandmother followed me to freedom.
The scars from his bite have become a deeply carved cavern, an empty bowl capable of collecting rainwater.
Shattered pieces. Shards of glass. Tucked away inside. Until.
Until words and photographs provided her a path to healing.
Now she is bold and insistent. She will not be stopped.
Her name – Danese Grandfield – a Woman, a Mother, a Grandmother, a Writer, a Photographer, and so much more she is discovering each day.
Her hope- to shed light into the darkness and pain carried by those who have experienced sexual trauma. And to simply share love, which never, ever, fails.