Unruly Children


Why is it that every stupid thought
in my head
screams to be written down?
Like an unruly child
Each one screams to be heard first.
Me me me me ME.

Hear me, they say, just hear me.

Watching TV someone says,
“No one makes me laugh like you.”
And that thought….
No. No one made me laugh like him.
Ok so the thought is out on the paper.
Or the screen.

The thought child yells at my weary fingers.
“You miss him, you miss him making you laugh.”
Ok, yes, I do. I miss him
Making me laugh.

But I DON’T miss him making me cry.
Or feel unimportant.
Or being ignored.
Or the games.
Or the other women.

But I do miss the laughter.
I do miss his heat in my bed.

The child sits down.
OK, it says.
So….it hurt you
Even though parts of it you loved.

Yes, I tell the child.
It hurt too much.
Many parts of me went numb.
Those parts can’t participate any longer
In the foolishness.

The child says,
“Thank you. For hearing me.
For giving me a voice, or at least words
On the screen.”

The children grow weary,
Trying to be heard.
But they’re persistent.

Once I hear them
And give them voice
They sleep, like children.
They are soothed..

Everyone, every thought, every feeling
Wants to be acknowledged.
And so I write,
To allow silence to come eventually.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images

13 responses to “Unruly Children

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