He’s holding his father's,
I assume,
hand
He looks fragile, precious
No longer eerie
and
vicious
Logic tells me: He’s a murderer,
We must stop him.
He’ll kill us.” But
He’s just a child.
I watch his eyes.
Now they’re calm,
soft and wary.
Before they were threatening
instinctual and mad
and I begin to believe
He’s just a child
Short black hair, smooth now
Before it was mangy
and it was wild
and it was unruly
and it was angry
and it was just like him.
His hands twitch
though his arms are limp.
He speaks
now, defending himself.
Before he growled and screamed.
Such strange noises
from a boy about seven
His words are soft
and strained. “They were mean,”
he says, “they were cruel.”
Soon his words I
hear not. The story’s in
his eyes.
His voice a distant melody.
And my heart says,
He’s just a child
I watch him,
Limping
he walks
every step an
earthquake in my soul.
Before I saw no weakness.
Weakness was with us.
He was fighting off three
Officers when I came.
I didn’t see
He’s just a child.
I watch him. His father
takes him
And they never
say a word.
Their actions and the strange
warm glow in their eyes say
more than words ever could.
Before I thought it rude, no
abominably sad, that he would not
speak to me. He wouldn’t say
a word, wouldn’t talk to me.
Now I
realize he was; he told me
Everything.
And I wonder
is he really
Just a child.
Now they let him go.
His father holds him close
And he watches us, eyes straining
Not to sleep.
They begin to disappear
into the street.
Logic told me he was a danger
To our lives, he was a vicious
little child. But my heart knows
He’s more than
Just a child.
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Wow this is a little spooky. This young man seems very complicated. I hope that he gets help. I feel that what he did was out of fear of further abuse, but that is for each reader to determine. Another great write to make one think. You are very good and I will continue to read your stuff! Anthony
Wow, a very haunting deep poem. We get a vivid picture through the writer's eyes. It's very well put together. There was a disturbing part to the poem...what was the boy? And that keep us wondering and curious, which is a good thing. Good job!!!
Ray Bradbury? I love Ray Bradbury! He's one of my favorite three author's- Bruce Coville, Ray Bradbury, and Roald Dahl. I mean i know you mean it just kinda reminded you of his work, but still. Ray Bradbury is amazing. I'm in awe... I hope I become that could someday... I can dream can't I?
Wish I got as many comments on one of my poems! This is so good. I get a whiff, perhaps, of Alfred Hitchcock, Rod Sirling, Ray Bradbury, or maybe Stephen King. I like the free verse, the flow, the constant yet varying refrain. All signs of good writing. This definitely warrants multiple readings. Which I intend to keep doing. Excellent piece. Welcome to our little club.
Wayne
Welcome !
