Dear
Mom,
I
had a 40th grade school reunion about a week ago. A few traveled from
out of state: all the way from California and two from Texas. Several drove
hours from Illinois and the outskirts of Missouri. It was nice that those who
came made the effort.
I
personally was impressed with one classmate. One who was bullied—it wasn’t
called that back then, but that’s what it was… I feel shame for not being brave
enough to have put an end to it. Or for not truly being her friend. I was kind of
dumb.
I
think about my own kids and how they were brave enough to help the underdog. I
thank God that I at least taught them better. I found out years later that my
own baby had been picked on in high school… she never told me then. But talk
about a heart breaker.
I’m
not a poet, so my critique friends gave me a few tips. Thank you.
This
poem could be for my daughter too, but I wrote it for my classmate.
Courage
I
could never be that brave.
Day
after day after day
teased,
tormented,
Ugly
words slapping her face.
Nearly
everyone participated
in
some shape or form.
I
don’t know how
she
held her head high.
“Sticks
and stones may break my bones,
but
words will never hurt me.”
They
hurt me just watching.
I
wasn’t brave.
I
didn’t stand up and
say,
“Stop it. Leave her alone.”
Darkness
settled near me, I feared I’d be next.
No,
I wasn’t brave.
I
wondered when she got home
from
school whether she dreamed
of
a better life. Did she write in her diary
who
she hated, anger filling page after page?
Or
were the pages soaked
from
tears spilling out, endlessly?
Because
sticks and stones…
words
do hurt.
There
are choices
wallow
in self-pity, or pick up
all
the pieces and put yourself back together again.
Make
a difference in the world.
To
be so brave.
I’ve
always admired
and
will always admire
her
beauty, her strength
her
courage.
With
love,
Lynn
