Through a Pane of Glass
A child stares at the world through a pane of glass.
His world recently ripped apart. His life no longer his own,
but directed by the giants.
Tall with age tucked under their belts, they peer down at him through the glass.
The giants who call themselves “Aid” frown sympathetically at his distress.
The courts think they judge justly and place him where they judge best.
But they don\'t listen. They don\'t know the truth.
He is just a child. The giants know best.
But wait, what was that noise? It was the boy, unhappy and alone.
He speaks to those he thinks will listen,
and to those he is told will listen.
Some hear but don\'t understand.
After all, he is only a child.
The words are hard to find
and get jumbled up in his head.
How can he explain the feelings that bounce and bend?
Especially when he stutters and looks down,
as he tries to remember the memories that were wrong,
as his mind tries to forget those same memories and they are gone.
He looks up at the giant, a face of stone, listening quietly with eyes
starting to slant with suspicion and starting to suspect that what he tells are lies.
The boy\'s throat begins to feel hot and wet. Some hear and don\'t believe,
but they peer down at him through the glass.
They reassure him that it will pass.
Children are intuitive, they can tell, even when giants try to hide it well.
He is just a child.
The giants know best.
But they are wrong.
A child gazes at his life through a pane of glass,
He taps to get someone\'s attention,
They glance up, but hurry on their way.
He opens his mouth searching for the words to say,
The words that will make them stop, stay,
and Listen.
Some listen and believe.
The boy\'s words make sense
As they leave
His open mouth
Parted in a sob.
They care with their honest eyes, open doors of sanctuary;
But only temporary; they lack the courage to be this boys hero.
They are powerless he hears,
They can only give him comfort and ears.
Some brave souls make a noise,
Echoing the dismayed cry,
And share his story,
with right authority.
A small gain, a grateful smile.
But the boy is back behind the pane of glass,
Watching once more his life pass,
And not having the power to make a change.
Simply give him the key,
And listen carefully.
A child watches his life through a pane of glass.
Giants decide where he resides and what he is allowed to do.
He has a dream and plans for the future,
But they don\'t see his view.
He points, see there? I should live there.
That\'s my real home.
And my dream is to be...
But his plea falls on deaf ears.
He is hurt and no one sees.
He tells, but they don\'t heed.
He is only a boy. The giants know best of course.
Too long, too long he has suffered and
Hope dwindles down like a candle guttered.
He taps insistently.
He shouts through the glass.
He screams through the pane.
Help should come. Why does no one help?
He raps smartly on the surface with calloused knuckles.
Then bangs at the glass until it...
It shatters.
That gets their attention.
They rush to pick up the pieces, but they are too late.
The boy stares unseeing through glassy eyes void of pain.