just a small boy
just a small boy
swathed in night's silence
weaves dreams of innocence
worlds away from
the nightmare that
will break apart the
completed jigsaw of his life
watch him
jolted awake by
the noise of familiar voices
see him
out of bed, bleary-eyed,
moving unsteadily in blackness
.........."mummy, mummy"..........
look at him
at the top of the stairs
threadbare ted his only comfort
barefoot, starting to shiver
voices getting louder and clearer
"DON'T GO....I'll .......kill myself...."
"....out of my way.......I'm going....."
...........................................SLAM
imagine
a five-year old waiting
for night's thousand eyes to see
for walls to hear
for pictures to find words
just a small boy
too young to know grief
old enough to feel pain
he never said goodbye
Paul Waring
Fri 17th Feb 2017 09:14
Thanks Col, what a touching comment about the awful sadness of losing your father so young and your attachment to threadbare ted.
Indeed, childhood can be a scary journey. I remember being on child and adolescent placement during my clinical psychology training and discussing a sad case like this with my supervisor. It led to a broader discussion about grief and suffering and he said to me "Paul, we are all damaged goods" and I suppose that's true.
I hope the aid agencies hear your wise words too.
Thank you Col, what a treasure it is to share with you on here.
Paul