Nine-year-old boy yells out of control,unusual, fierce. Shocking, really.
Five-year-old hurts he couldn't communicate at the time
bleed out his mouth, staining everything around him.
More eloquent now, pain finds its voice,
lashing, spearing others with his tongue.
Soft touch to his back, soft voice by his side,
he remembers he is safe, and loved, and cared for
more than he will ever truly understand.
Whatever happened then is gone, banished by a grace
reserved for children, if only someone points the way
so they can find it, unwrap it, open the box.
He doesn't quite believe it before heavy eyelids
relax and fall, and all is calm again.
I tiptoe out, wondering if angry men
are just now finding words for hurts from
when they were little boys.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment