A Hearing Heart

Where have all the children gone,
who hippedy hopped and sidewalk chalked,
who sang jump rope songs
and tagged along,
who played "Run Sheep Run"
and "Simon Says"
and had no idea what a condom was.

I mourn for those seats that are all in a row,
for quiet school exits,
and fun-filled recesses,
and classrooms that whisper,
for grammar and tables,
and long division.

Madonna once meant Mary with Child.
A teacher could teach, could smile and beguile.
Did we make some wrong turns
as we strove for perfection?
Did we lose our direction?

There's day cares and latch keys,
and hurray for house husbands,
but a crack house looms large
on a school house corner,
and a ride on a bus is fraught with warning.

Knowledge is strength.
Have we gone too far,
hurling our children into adult wars,
guns and knives and metal detectors,
distressing redress,
repugnant regress.

Jammed crammed days
of hustle and bustle.
Let's call a halt to this frantic tussle,
too much too soon.
Why force the bloom?
There is no music without rests.
The seed needs to farrow.
The egg needs a watchful
mothering sparrow.

No need to rip little lives asunder.
Heaven drifts clouds for wondering under.
Let's stop.
Let's love them and hold them close,
and with a listening heart
toast our future's boast.

by Colleen Gordon

Send Comments to Greg Gordon MD, CFI, cydoc@earthlink.net
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