The low hum of the engine,
the rocking of the bus,
another day for school,
another day of broken trust.
As we approach his stop,
I cringe and pull inside.
but no matter how I try
I know I cannot hide.
He’s just another boy
tall and gangly,
that’s been labeled “special”
though he just seems slow to me.
It’s a daily ritual
when we’re at his stop.
He slowly walks back toward me
and I find that my eyes drop.
The driver turns a blind eye
amidst the jostle and the jeers.
Am I only one to see
his eyes fill up with tears?
I’ve tried to tell my parents
and officials at the school
but they don’t ever listen.
They think that I’m a fool.
"Kids will always be kids",
at least that’s what they say.
But I don’t want to be a kid
if this is the price I pay.
I silently stand by and watch
my "brother" go through hell.
I wonder at the cruelty and
why it's me that hurts as well.
And so for 68 minutes
as I ride the bus each day
I withdraw, protect myself,
and silently I pray.
“God, help me find the strength
to do what I know is right.
Let me practice what I’ve been taught
to stand for the weak and fight.”
But instead, I slide on the seat
and don’t offer him a place.
He continues to the back
where no one shares his space.
I know that his small bruises
will all heal with time
but the wounds that I have witnessed
will last OUR whole lifetime.
Author notes
Not all abuse is obvious and not all is committed by adults. Sometimes the worst abuse comes in the form of silence from those around us.
“We have met the enemy and he is us” Pogo
Prompt: The abuse of disabled children in the school system and by parents and siblings.
Picture Credit: picture by MorgoLovesYou (http://photobucket.com/mediadetail/MorgoLovesYou/000_2103.jpg)
A contest entry
- Erase the Hate Stop Child Abuse: March Contest by Page Shut down.
600 points, ended April 4, 2008, 5 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Important Issues by pinksnowboots.
570 points, ended February 19, 67 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Critical Comments Always Welcome
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
-
bravo. This is so amazing.
-
(tears stream) This is beautiful. The sadness and the heartfelt words you leave upon this page is very powerful. It truly is sad. I use to work with disabled people with different disabilities and they are just as precious as us.
-
Thank you for your entry
This is so well said and so true, not all abuse comes from adults. I think I will do May's contest on that very prompt. If you don't mind me borrowing it.
God Bless
Tammy -
I know all about this type of abuse. I see it in my own family with my own child.
I silently stand by and watch and
learn a lesson straight from hell.
I stumbled on this line. Seems too long, you can tighten it up some. and watch and...too wordy.
-
sad
sad write for the prompt . . liked "another day of broken trust" and "Let me practice what I've been taught" . . good points in this write . .
-
i dont know what to say..this poem..its amazing...it reflects on so much life,that some of us tend to hide and not reveal to our peers..it is so true and makes peple realize what so many go through with noone but themselves
-
too painful
i was the girl on the bus... -
great!
great!!! WOW!!
-
amazing.
this is such a good poem.
I really like poems like these, standing up for whats right.
amazing you should think about having this published for the public to see.
-
Yes, there are those who will not stand up and be ridiculed by their peers so instead they join the majority and make fun of those less fortunate than themselves. Parents are not concerned unless it is their child, the rest aren't interested as it does not concern them. Sad sate of affairs. Sentiments well expressed in these lines - hope someone stands up for this poor boy and his rights as a human being to be treated with some dignity sometime in his life.
-
wow the low hum of the engine the rocking of the bus another day for school another day for broken trust as i ride the bus each day i withdraw protect myself and silently i pray he coninues to the back where no-one shares his place but the wounds that i have witnessed will last our whole lifetime i can relate the wounds linger on a whole life time and i spent 33 years in silence
Adding your comment:
1 - 11 of 11
){kind=link}