Thoughts Have Hands

Child of five 

          stands outside first grade class;

faces mother’s insistence, 

           to open the door and go on in.

His mother glares at him, 

              frustrated by the drama —

and stubborn resistance,

       she marches 

             to her car and drives away. 

Left outside on his own — he ignores 

      eyes inside 

                 locked on him.

Eyes stormy with tears 

                stare after his absent mother, 

heart skips a beat, 

        stomach hollows out in disbelief, 

he crumbles to the pavement,

              bangs his fists in desperate protest,

      sobs out loud.

Abandoned to grief and 

                     strange education

    from sharp scary faces,

                      dispensed without sign 

                             of human compassion.

He feels condemned 

              to serve an extra long sentence, 

     multiplied by his fear and confusion

                   to year twenty five, 

        knowing no explanation 

                                           for separation.

THH

6/10/25

Revised 8/15/25

Revised 8/18/25

Revised 8/20/25

This entry was posted on August 30, 2025 at 12:35 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.