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Poem
So many faces moved through the desks in my classroom
                   sitting uncomfortably at first
                                   waiting to be reprieved…

Odd little faces with no smiles to be uncovered or
       handsome young men who had not found
                   themselves or their puberty

 Strange veneers that covered countenances 
                                   hiding
     unspeakable horrors delving into the psyche 
                         lost children of abuse, hunger, abandonment

 The boy who lived in his car for three weeks until
                     he deigned tell his best friend, who told another 
                         and another…
              this comely boy killed himself
                             and his loving, alcoholic drug filled parents

 How could I ignore the teacher across the hall, 
                 when a young boy comes  crying 
                     that his teacher had felt of him…
 “Sit on lap and let me hold you...,” he would say to these
     innocent, tender, trusting minds 
             
                   discovery led the swine home, to lie in his tub 
                               and pull the trigger

 Did I feel responsible?
         maybe...not for the twisted, evil man but for  his abused boys
         
 others 

   Those cheery, little chirping girls searching for a
         heroine to model their future  seemingly so far away 
                                 they had to reach through the stars

 Visages that wander in and out of my memories 
       the wives, fathers, sex abusers, drug addicts, thieves, ministers, 
                   doctors, lawyers, ditch diggers…infinitum…

Did I touch any of their needs
     was I the model to be looked up to
                         what could I have said that would have made a difference

 Were they able to peek behind my too often stern, teacherish facade
         discerning that I to suffered, spending my young womanhood
                         with a man who did not value me, who cheated…

  but that is beside the point…

Who am I to make a judgement call
           I who needed to be kinder
               more attentive,
           more loving

 I never relinquished my guise...forgive me

           where are those  sweet faces...I long for them
           
 Don’t pester me with questions any more
                           I have no answers for anyone
                   not even for me

© Carol Davis, 3 days ago
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