How do you learn
rightness from wrong,
wrongness from right?
What is worth the keeping?
What is worth a fight?
What do you do when others taunt you...
What do you do when no one wanted you?
What do you do when home is a place,
where Mother/Father make you fear
and want to hide your face?
Children who are eight
shouldn't go crazy
feel the thinness of life's veneer.
the edge is/was
often dangerously near.
Much too severe
to go to school the next day.
Much too much
too big of a world in which to play
Even harder was the home life I tried to
So instead I stayed out
on a summer's night.
The stars above seem friendlier...
who really cares?
But the north wind might...
blowing wildly through your fire-less campsite.
Who really knows your secrets but
your imaginary friend?
With him you feel much safer,
and even better together
sitting on the sloping banks
of a raging river's bend.
Yes, more at ease than in your
own room, your own head.
(The one that feels like prison.)
So you conjure
any excuse to leave
so you can sleep in the deep dark forest
underneath the whispering trees.
Real choices aren't for children.
Adult enforced choices are
as changeable as the breeze...
and as swift as a parent's back hand.
This, you understand...
Your parents are
both headed for something ugly
later on in their lives.
Something from which they can't be saved.
A kind of unhappy awakening,
a very rude surprise
for them lies
perhaps an earlier
But you've learned that
no matter how many or fast the words
come your way,
No matter how you may feel
embittered on any given day...
(THIS IS ONLY TEMPORARY.)
The mercy you'll be shown...
will be your very own.
So you do it.
Give yourself the grace to get on
and get along.
To move on and grow older.
Beauty is not
in the eye of the beholder.
It bubbles up.
It is a crude oil rising up from within.
Even when the judgments continue to rush in.
You are and will be strong enough.
Let this one word answer do your talking.
Let your bold response be even shocking.
To realize, to let them see
after the turmoil,
you weren't finished off.
history's not over yet,
Listening to the rhythms of soul/blues music and and trying to write something to it.
Think of this as an inner dialogue from a long time ago.
legal Copyright for this work, by this author
for this site title Meloo/straight from her Tilt-a-World
April 27 2012 All Rights Reserved By the Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo Tilt-a-World
Vote for this poem