When Chaplain Dawson came and talked with me,
he doesn’t think it did any good,
because I could only cry.
But that was what I needed to do,
for that was what was bottled up inside.
Now I need to find a way to let him know and see,
That when he was here to talk and I mainly cried, that he really did help me.
I let my poems do most of my talking since I just kept on crying.
The harder and harder talking about the fire got, the more I kept
crying and trying.
It really was surprising when he got up to leave and said,
“I came to help you, but instead you helped me”.
I found that hard to understand with all the crying I did and
the poems I gave him to read.
He has to know he helped me and he did do some good,
Because even though I’m still scared to sleep, I don’t want to eat,
and I shudder with fear when I hear a sirene, I can feel a
changing in my mood.
That has to mean he’s helped me to start down the right road,
and the changing in my mood.
Is a sign I’m starting to lighten the load.
So now I hope Chaplain Dawson can see
when he came to talk with me he really did help me.
(pen name for Bonnie Jean)
April 16, 2008
One month after the fire.