I wrote this poem eleven years ago. I return to it today and just want to weep. What are we doing to our children? Who will save them? Who will carry the torch of knowledge for the next generation and for the generation behind us?
No one to close the windows
when the rain storm pellets their beds.
No one to lock the doors at night
and keep intruders from walking in.
No one to warm up dinner and
feed their craving little bodies.
No one to scare away the dragons
who star in their dreams at night.
The children are
thrown away –
labeled incorrigible –
beyond our abilities to help.
The achievement gap widens.
The terrain becomes more barren.
The house falls into further decay.
The green in the landscape
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