
The Woodstock Art Gallery’s Ella Ferrell shares a selection of her poetry

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I can appreciate that it was, I can see that it’s not anymore, and that it never will be again…
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But I can still miss it.
Every summer, the Woodstock Art Gallery welcomes several bright and talented emerging cultural workers to the team. They bring wonderful energy and fresh perspectives to the gallery. As part of their duties, the gallery turns over the ArtCity editorial articles to the summer students to share their unique experiences. Below is a special piece written by Ella Ferrell, front desk assistant.
During my last two summers working at the Woodstock Art Gallery, I have found the confidence to see my worth as a writer. For a long time, I was scared to publicly share my writing. I have hundreds of poems sitting around, hidden under the belief that they were sub-par and nothing special. My mind has since changed because I now see a great deal of value in what I have created.
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I’ve decided to use this opportunity to share a collection of pieces I have written. This story is about childhood, the pain of growing, the livelihood of childlike instincts, and the beauty of welcoming our younger selves back into our life, regardless of our current age.
Life is full of beauty and pain regardless of our experiences. I hope to give you a space to remember your own childhood by cherishing that childlike wonder but also applying it to who you are today.
By the pool
Burnt noses
Sunscreen in your eyes
The smell of bug spray
Wrinkly fingers
Cold water
Goggles too tight
Wet hair
Chlorine
Pilling bathing suits
Eating chips in the pool
Playing mermaid
Synchronized swimming routines
No care in the world
Soft tan skin
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Freckles
Awkward bodies
A joy that I cannot explain.
Jenga
Somewhat intact
Wobbling a little
But still standing
For now
But not for much longer
It feels like time is withering away at the livelihood of the matter
A slight tilt begins the slow crumble
Then it all just comes crashing down
It happens fast but I see it lagged
A fall in slow motion that hurts the whole time
My stomach drops
Gut wrenched
There are pieces everywhere
And no one to pick them up except me.
Safe
My safe place is under an old pink Dora blanket.
The still soft fabric
Wrapped so tightly around my tired shoulders
After another day
Of carrying this weight
The weight of regret
Of missing who I was before
Feeling shameful
Standing in front of that little girl
Feeling more sorry than I have and will ever feel
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Standing in front of that little girl
Wishing I could hold her face
Kiss her forehead
Tell her everything is going to be alright
Even if I know damn well it’s not true
Wishing for the both of us
A connection much overdue.
Inner child
My grandparents’ boat
Same vinyl seats
Sat with age
Some things are meant to last
Wind across my face and body
Consequenced with frizzy hair
An unshaven bikini line
Built-in teenage insecurity
Tired eyes closed
Feeling the unreality as it seems
The aftermath of building a sandcastle
Red knees
Home and clean
Showered and sunburnt
Ice cream topped with raspberries
A treat I didn’t necessarily need
But one that I wanted.
As this column comes to an end, I remind you to listen to the child you once were. They live in the back of your mind, still carrying memories. They hold dearly onto their raw emotions and beg to be heard. Please listen to them. You may feel far away from that child, but I encourage you to cry like you’re still that toddler, celebrate like you’re still a teenager, study like you’re that hopeful student, and love as purely and openly as you can, like you did in your adolescence.
We all grieve our childhoods in one way or another. Forgetting what it feels like to be young, innocent, and naive. Trust me when I say it’s OK to fall back on your childlike instincts to soothe the internal wounds that still hurt.
Keep your youth close to your heart and remember that, to your core, you will always be that curious, eager and sweet child.
Ella Ferrell is the front desk assistant at the Woodstock Art Gallery. The Woodstock Art Gallery gratefully acknowledges the youth employment funding from Young Canada Works for this position.
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