Posts Tagged ‘Children’

 

I’ve been listening to this song by Paul Simon (yes, of Simon & Garfunkel) for the past few days.

Maybe it’s the drums, maybe it’s the melody or the lyrics, but it just gets stuck in my head so easily. It sort of sounds like an anthem, as well. An anthem about childhood.

“Why deny the obvious child” that’s inside us all?

 

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Today’s date

attached to four names

I don’t recognize.

And I wonder

about names

attached to headstones,

about futures

attached to children

along with memories.

And these are people

who will only be remembered if

they fall under these circumstances-

if they had children,

if they are a character in someone’s story.

We remember historical figures

and celebrities

because of their national renown,

but who remembers

the little people

with their names printed

small

in newsprint?

The walls know of your financial trouble.

The walls have heard you and your wife

scream at each other,

volume and pitch ascending, a two-person opera.

The walls know your children’s contained secrets.

They know what your son looks at

on his computer, and lusts after.

They listen to your daughter’s conversations

with herself, her diary, her friends.

The walls know your struggles,

they see blood boil under your skin,

see tears run like beads of quartz

down hills and valleys of your face,

hear each footstep- feel the hammers

or leopard steps they could be.

The walls know you.

They have Guarded you.

When you enter,

you step into yourself

and confront all the things

that you’ve kept buried.

Green-brown spires 

with their limbs- gnarled like weeds-

cast shadows, block

out the sunlight-you must search for it.

The brown path is not worn,

the ground is cold, 

and singing seems pointless here,

because the wizened trees of your mind

will suck the joy out of the tune

and reduce your voice to a stammer.

 

Know

that there are more people 

than solely you in this forest.

All paths intertwine,

and people are never alone.

But be careful what you say

as you stumble through the woods;

you never know what innocent children

will hear your curses

from the thicket on the other side.

Snowflakes are more children

than they are crumbs of bread,

twirling in their pointed skirts,

and tying a bonnet ’round Earth’s head.