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Rescue Them

Sometimes I spend too much time
Remembering when, remembering where –
Realizing, once again, the truths of then --
When a boy of, maybe, ten (or younger),
Shoeless,  ragged, unclipped, wild-haired,
Roamed about, seeking comfort, seeking caring.
We (I,  my siblings) were not treasured gifts, 
But heavy burdens;  our parents’
Lessons to us were: never to ask
For anything, never to complain to them,
Never to “need” anything from them.
We (and I, especially)
Learned to live furtively, steeped in urgent
Need to keep our secrets, guard the “privacy”
Meant to mislead outside onlookers
To avoid unwelcome consequences.
The young who are wise beyond their years
From deprivation, neglect, near-starvation,
Escape as early as they can but
Scars remain, and often they (we) retain
An ingrained reticence, are slow
To trust or to reveal themselves.
Rescue them, by sharing time, companionship --
And, when deserved, encouragement --
The hopefulness that the current
Slogan “It will get better” may be true.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Krutsinger Avatar
November 1, 2021 at 11:47 PM
This is also what I was taught "We (and I, especially) Learned to live furtively, steeped in urgent Need to keep our secrets, guard the “privacy” Meant to mislead outside onlookers" and our feelings were always to be a secret.
Rigoler Avatar
August 24, 2018 at 6:09 PM
I found your poem interesting, sir, and was able to relate to much of it based on my own upbringing. We were poor but not destitute, and I never went without food or clothing. My book about a boy growing up in New England (still in progress) recounts many of my experiences on my Canadian grandparents' farm. I hope one day to publish it. Many thanks for the stop by. / M
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