"Breaking a child is easier than it looks. Their bones aren’t as weary, Their breath uninfected, Their eyes ready... Their heart’s are strong, but much easier to shatter. Children still glow with possibility. Their eyes still fill with wonder Even when they’re breaking. Their lips are still wet in youth Not dried up and unpuckered. Their feet are most ready to jump Long before they’re branded. A child continues to thrash after it’s done And they deliver a most telling portrait Of home and love, even when there is none." O! I want to take all the children with me, Cried humanity! I’d hide them away from their use, Clutch each one near to me and whisper, “You’re the only heaven, the only worship I need…” © 2009 mrp/thepoetryman
(The Weaver's Song)