There were no surgeries, no specialists,
no community of workers to help his mother,
or him. No intervention for the little dark-haired
baby born with un-kissable lips. Caverns
from bow of lips to the flattened nostrils,
that made his ears weep. In his anger,
he pounded scars on his own eyebrows,
slit the two sides of his lips, broke
his own fist on the abnormalities.
Deaf, autistic, cerebral spasms,
Tourettes, kept him jangling to drums
none had heard. But it was that mad music
that drew me to him. How lonely a life
in an imposed cage of jingling bones
that not even he could hear.
I bought a rocker, made a deal
with an absent awe-maker,
and bundled him in my arms
and taught him gentle touch,
my hand to his self-bruised cheek,
his gnawed knuckles to my wrinkled
face. I put his palm to my throat
so he could feel my lullaby.
Soon, before he was surreptitiously dumped
on the mat on the floor of my Special room
full of Special kids, his head would bobble,
eyes wider than a dark heaven, as he searched
for my familiar face. He could smile
if you knew how to define the cleft
that curled to one side. He would attempt
to throw himself out of the arms
of an anxious worker in order to get to me.
Soon, he learned to dip a plastic cup,
into cinnamon candies and dump them
into a container until there was one heart left
that he could tongue and allow to dribble
red love down onto his bib as I traced
the rows of Christ’s care-laden children
with him dangling his sweet jig on my hip.
Came time, as all times come, when grief
caused me to need the rocking more than he.
He caught a slipped tear
sluicing down my cheek on the tip of a trembling finger
and put it in his mouth to taste it…
and I knew God loved all his children.
Author notes
16 km fromt he barrenlands, I met God in the crumpled face of a crushed child.
In a list
A contest entry
- Children, Special Education, Gifted, and Normal by Little Eagle.
500 points, ended January 11, 2007, 13 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Thanks for entering
This touches me deeply. Every child is a gift no matter the deformities or disabilities. They all teach us love from God and have something special to offer this world.
The flow is good and the structure of the stanzas were good as well. The background and picture compliment the poem as well.
Good luck and God Bless
Tammy -
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I was always ever the mother and tender heart for little ones, hurt ones, and love-longers. I always had enough love to go around....because chidlren like this one..and he is real and living, still, in that Northern Community, and most likely fanning others with the breath of God he carries.
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As before you are a great writter
My dear freind. You always catch me with a lump in my throat. You know love in the most gentle way of life. MAny do not understand the way of any mother or god mother or foster mother even adopted mothers. Only those know how god loves his children and how we all love oue childrens. Once again You touch my heart. Thank you and I know we are Native American and we was caught by god to accept the childrens as is and love them forever.
Your friend
Morningstar -
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Yes, in oru belief....children belong to all of us... they may be our passed mother or grandmother or father or son...and they are fresh from the breath of Creator.... this little one caught my heart in his feathers.
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"Came time, as all times come, when grief caused me to need the rocking more than he. He caught my one slipped tear sluicing down my cheek, on the tip of a trembling finger and put it in his mouth to taste it…and I knew God loved all his children." Sighhh...Indeed, He does, my Sister...This is so beautifully penned...I could easily imagine the scenes you described so eloquently...We all face an unknown journey in this life...what matters is that we pay close attention to the signs along the way, as you have done...Your fingers brushed against the wings of an angel...& the angel heard your heart...So compassionately written, Sweetie...Good luck in the contest...
Wanda
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Indeed he did, and when I left, I felt I had abandoned him...it was so difficult but I had, in the end, to save msyelf. But I know, if I saw him today, years later, and sang that lullaby to him "The Wolf Lullaby", he would look me square int he eyes and reach for me...it was that strong a bond and that deep a dearness.
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