recall my dear friends we hear through our memories words said have been said their first intentions linger words become symbols of pain no matter who presents them
i hear anger i heard fear i hear demands i heard questions i hear doubts i heard concerns i hear resistance i heard patience i hear apathy i heard grief i hear compromise i heard love
having had a very difficult day at work i stopped by aunt bea’s i needed to end my day with a civilized conversation as i conveyed to aunt bea how a colleague had responded to my requested input aunt bea smiled and said it seems to me these days that when someone solicits assistance with something that they’re vested in they’re generally asking for confirmation of what they did not how it might be better
a noisy room attempts at conversation fragments of words and thoughts flutter into the ether vanishing without a trace no doubt seeking a suitable mate or an appropriate time to exit stage right out of the spotlight and into something more comfortable
now you know
aunt effie
don’t miss a beat
when it comes
to the music of
this neighborhood
so when she tells you something
honey
take it as gospel
and if social service
had any sense at all
they’d have
her
on their payroll
anyway
let me tell you what she said
today
social service made one
of those unannounced calls
after the school reported
that JJ was going to commit suicide
cuz’ of all the beatings he’s been getting
well
guess who answered the door
you got it
mr restraining-order himself
but the county worker didn’t know
he ain’t allowed to be there
and can’t check
cuz’ her fancy computer
ain’t got one of those
communication cards
so she’s blind in the field
walking around in a room full of lies
tapping her white cane questions
on the soft surface of deception
which gave back only mellow sounds
like some disney movie soundtrack
so she leaves
after talking to all the parties involved
thinking things are as sweet as honey
and after she leaves
JJ hangs himself
i was as angry as hell
but aunt effie said
child with all the children
they got to watch
the best they can do
is a courtesy call
This poem was inspired by a story in the LA Times by Garrett Therolf “Child Agency’s Woes Persist” (Sunday, July 25, 2010). I encourage you to read his article and consider how similar stories may be impacting your community.