A first-born 5-year old, with cheekbone bruise
acquired on a Wednesday at his school,
said “I don’t know” when asked – would not accuse
or detail anybody acting cruel.
His folks appeared accepting of each word,
but happily they gave us space to chat.
I told my buddy it would be absurd
to not know how you got a mark like that.

He spoke to me of how his face was wrecked
(another kid engaged in bully shit).
I understood him trying to protect,
but then explained it’s inappropriate
to shield his caring parents from the truth
(remembering my own first-child youth).

This entry was posted in Aging, Family, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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