Ma Petite Fille

Would you come home, to me?

Author’s note:

For whoever needs these words, I’m glad they found you.

There comes a quiet moment in many lives when wonder begins to make room for expectation, and play slowly gives way to performance. We seldom notice the child disappearing until we begin looking for them again.

This poem is my attempt to leave a trail of light she might one day choose to follow home.

Becoming a paid subscriber helps me continue creating from a place of depth and truth. It may seem like a small gesture, but it sustains the quiet work behind every word you read here, and maybe something even bigger in the future.

Please help my dreams come true.

Because if I could write all day, every day, I’d do it with joy.

The voice in the audio belongs to me.

If you’ve ever wanted to hear yourself reflected back through art, I create custom songs for my paid subscribers. Personal songs and spoken pieces shaped around their writing, and sung by me.

---

Ma petite fille,

please,
come back.

Would you,
if I mapped out the stars
to trace your path?

I promise
the moon
will never ask you
to divide
your light

perfectly

like your fingers
pressing against piano keys
until you learned to ask,

“Father, can we take a break?”

turning your life into a discipline
while all you asked for
was play.

Ma petite fille,

what if
I promised
for the morning sunlight
to rest upon
your mother's
blonde hair,

like when the sun brushed my legs
on Arthur's Seat
while I stayed with the wind.

So did the grass.

Some green.
Alive
and fresh.

Some look like hay.
Short.
Yellow
and plain.

A moment passed,
then the wind began to sing,
whistling through the clouds,

asking for a dance
when the melody
of being myself played.

Il est trop tard.
Je ne suis plus celle que j'étais

like when I scratched the floor
with my nails,
trying to pick up the card
while still holding a cigarette
between my fingertips
and wedging a water bottle
between my arm
and my waist,

cool water
spilled from the bottle
onto my knees,

smiling,
with no gaze
to press
click

to remember
later,

forever

being

myself

when no one
was watching.

Il est trop tard.
Je ne suis plus celle que j'étais.

Like a mayflower,
favouring only one season
to blossom

during those cold winter nights
I kept waiting
for summer

while it only arrived
as another winter.

Ma petite fille,

would you spare me
your smile
if I promised
never to leave you alone
when February arrives again?

Ma petite fille,

though my longing
to hear your giggles again
began turning into despair,

would you spare me
the joy of waking

beside

you

tomorrow,

without your mother's face
appearing before you,
as she says,

"Don't frown.
The marks
will never leave
your face,"

without your scream
that echoed
long after the voice
had fallen silent
when your babysitter
dropped that burning coal
on your throat,

without your gaze
drifting toward
the ceiling,
never giving permission
for your tears
to trail down your cheeks.

Maybe,
you wanted
to leave,

but what if
I loved you
the way I love
my dragonfly necklace,

asking

nothing more of me

than to

just be.

Ma petite fille,

if I became
your dragonfly

reviendrais-tu
auprès

de moi ?

---

Every read, share, and recommendation helps more than you might think.

If you’d like to support me but aren’t in a position to purchase a paid subscription, you can also:

♡ Support me through:

Buy Me a Coffee

♡ Become a free subscriber and join my community.

♡ Leave a comment and join the conversation

♡ Restack the post if it resonated with you.

If you’re new here, this is probably the best place to start:

Beyond the Page with Imi is a new paid subscriber benefit that I hope to shine a light on the remarkable people in this community.

Each week, I’ll invite a paid subscriber to join me for a live conversation. We’ll talk about ideas, experiences, projects, creativity, psychology, relationships, and whatever else feels alive in the moment.

Whether you’re a writer, artist, entrepreneur, psychologist, creator, or simply someone with a story to tell, this is an opportunity to share your ideas and work with both this community and the wider Substack ecosystem.

Anyone can watch, join the chat, ask questions, and be part of the conversation.

Don’t forget to tune in this Friday, July 19th, at 1 PM EST alongside my co-host PancakeSushi !