One Or Two In Every School

At a thousand yards
broken children
hear each others’ silence.

Without the superpower of normalcy
each knows they are a mutant,
wanna be X-Men.

Too young to understand
there is no such thing as normal,
they compare invisible scars.

The bewildering business of being
traffics in misunderstanding
and a roster of bullies.

On a future day, a teacher
will succeed in educating them
that they are fully human.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Recognition

If I inherited
my parents’ home,
I would have
taken it apart
brick by brick
and paid for
the foundation
to be extracted
from the ground.

Knowing that
sitting beneath
any hawthorn tree
with darting cardinals
and cedar waxwings
feels like home
as long as I
hold Seymour
the troll doll
my eldest brother
gave me
one long ago
Christmas.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Private School

All the childhood years went by
without my child.

I cannot say that those years were stolen.
Death does not steal children like sex traffickers steal children.

This is what it took
to learn what my parents went through

when my brother, at thirteen, died from cancer.
Eventually, I forgave them for what came next.

And a hole in the heart filled with understanding. Forgiveness.
A tuition fee I never have to pay again.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney