Skip to main content

To those who said it wasn't abuse

It wasn't abuse, you said.
He was out of his head
crying and yelling and throwing
himself down kicking
tantrums over little things like
the tightness of a shoe
the color of a plastic cup he wanted
red we gave him blue.
The VHS player wouldn't play,
the certain condition of a day
it was raining or sunny or dry
you said you were just parenting him
getting him in line to mind
building character, you said.

It wasn't abuse, they said.
Just parenting.  A child of unruly sorts
he doesn't look us in the eye he's
disrespectful.  Doesn't tuck in his shirts
unkempt.  Doesn't sit still during prayer
sinful and ungodly a preacher's kid
you know how they are well,
not my kid.

So he would be taught respect
and godliness through discipline
a scriptural concept he would
Honor His Father he would
want to, want to, obey.
and his mother would
Honor His Father by shutting up
and covering up the little
legs slashed and bloodied
welts and bruises and broken
kitchen utensils from the force of blows.
Picking them up throwing away
wooden spoons and brushes and paint sticks
and little hands reaching up to
be held or picked up from
the floor when daddy punched him
and sent him sprawling
crawling under the chairs
the little man fixed on Legos
and trains and happy in his world
away from the spoons
and the fists and the gossiping
crowds who said he was
"just being parented" with the rod of
correction and godliness
who said autism was no excuse
and who said it wasn't abuse

If you suspect childhood violence, call 1-800-4-A-CHILD.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I visited a Mosque. And went to church.

Today, our local International Rescue Committee organization hosted a solidarity event at the Islamic Society of Wichita while their members were gathering for Friday prayers.  We stood outside, held signs, and let them know that we are with them.  That we are forthem.

But before the event I met my new friend, Ratna, for a tour and some lunch in the well-worn gym.  I was running a little early so I sat by myself on the concrete fountain in front of the building. 
It was a beautiful day.  The sun was warming me.  I could smell the food cooking.  A suburban in the parking lot said, "Girl Scout Cookies For Sale!" written in white shoe polish on the dark windows. 

Pretty soon, Ratna pulled up in her minivan, tagged along behind by her 5-year-old son with his bright blue iPad and headphones.  He was watching a Pokemon cartoon and was humming along to the songs.  Skipping as he went.  Ratna smiled, hugged me, and led me inside for a tour of their worship space. 

It was a beautifu…

Of course, I am a race traitor

You said that I am a race traitor.
Of course, I am a race traitor.
There is no supreme but God alone.
One collective conscious.
One social sensibility.

I see the fear behind your tiki glow.  Your trembling polo.
You fear the truth that we are one.
But, my brother, I pray that you might find love.
For if you fail, I fail.

And You who claim to pray.  Pray for me.
A race traitor.  "The worst kind of human."
Pray that I may succeed.  For though it makes you rage,
If I fail, you fail.

In one hand, anger. In the other hand, love.

A few days ago, my son asked about the Women's March and what we hoped to accomplish by gathering together.  Was this a march to promote abortion?  Were we ISIS-supporting ignorants?  Was this a Trump-bashing call to arms? 

So I have put a few thoughts together about this past week and where I choose to stand in the midst of everything swirling around us.

1.  Two hands for Trump
Sigh, Trump.  I have been angry, primarily about his arrogance and fear-mongering.
But.  I'm trying to hold an open mind with our new president. 
In one hand, I hold hope.  I agree with some of his policies and am hoping that he will be able to shift and learn as he moves through each new week.  I am sure that the presidency will change him.  I'm sure that he will grow.  There have been times that I have seen him change his mind and position about different topics.  I am trying to hold hope that he will also understand how his character, his arrogance, and his hurtful remarks impact the people that…