A child was lost.
A child lost.
The world beat him
Battered him, bruised him to breaking,
And – go figure —
He broke.
His spokes gave out.
His wheels flew off.
His handlebars torqued.
And he tumbled.
He’d been tumbling awhile.
But this time,
He tumbled so far
He could not,
Would not –
Refused –
To get back up.
On the front end of a warm Tuesday
At the ass end of a cold month,
Sick to death with hurt,
He took charge.
With a discharge that fixed
And dilated
His pain
In a huge, gaping hole.
That opened to a ravine
That swallowed a family
And shook a school
And rattled a community.
His mother unhinged
His father undone
His siblings unstrung
His promise unsung
His lyrical, beautiful,
Guitar-humming
Soul-strumming
Sweet promise,
That could make this place beautiful
– so, so beautiful –
Left unsung.
How can we fix this?
Not this, that’s impossible —
Fixed forever in a curled dark hole
Deep in his family’s ribs
Howling unchecked —
But this?
This brokenness
This curled dark hole
Deep in society’s rib
Howling unchecked
… and ignored.
How?
postmodernfamilyblog 