Despite the upbeat music playing in my car
The drive to work was eerily quiet –
A pale brown deer stood alone
in the corner of the field I pass daily-
I barely caught a glimpse
of her head turning as I drove past
Happy and sad at the same time
A combination of feelings I understand
I don’t understand the deafening
cries to clean up the streets
simultaneously seeking to silence
the cries of hurting hearts
I don’t understand tearing a man
from the only home he knows
destroying his tent and what few
belongings he owns
So much prideful noise, such a lack
of compassion and understanding-
The streets are eerily clean, but
our hearts must answer
the frightening question
hanging stagnant in the air-
Where did the people go?
Tag: trauma
Not Enough
Feeling the need to speak
Knowing the importance of
Choosing my words
Carefully-
Not speaking is unacceptable-
Emotions swirl in my head
Threatening to exit in a scream-
Until I pause
Take a breath
Whisper a prayer
Allowing it all to be filtered
Though my heart –
Love your neighbor as yourself
Leaves no room to vilify or dehumanize-
Be kind and compassionate to one another
Holds no space for intimidation and hatred-
Love those who are foreigners,
For you yourselves were foreigners
Carries no capacity for arrogance or exile-
Choosing my words carefully
Knowing they are not enough
And actions must follow
Photos taken by me in Washington, D.C.
Packing and Unpacking
Started unpacking today
After twenty-plus years
Guess it’s about time-
Not that this suitcase
Was hidden
No, it has floated
In my periphery
Until a flashback
Would open the latch
Spilling its contents
In a jumbled mess
All over my heart-
A quick nod
Possible sharing
Then once again
Packed away-
Not this time
This time I am
Choosing to
Open the latch
Hold each piece close-
Fear
Anger
Gratitude
Release-
Acknowledging
Their impact
Before gently folding
Placing them in my
Chest of Memories
Not to be forgotten
But remembered
With clarity
Within the journey
Mending Layers
Wounds left behind
By trauma’s
Repeated strikes
Scar deep
The pain pulsing
Long after
The bruises
Disappear-
Difficult to
Comprehend
Particularly when
Exacted on the weak
And Innocent-
Layers of insecurity
Lead to repeated
Questions that
Often require
Deciphering
Repeated
Questions
Requiring
Repeated
Answers-
All the above
Requiring
Patience-
Uncomfortable
Necessary work
Sewing stitches
In hopes of mending
Child abuse is not pleasant to think about or talk about. But unpleasant conversations are necessary for positive change. Acknowledgment and patience are the beginning steps.
A recent visit with a sweet friend brought this ugly truth clearly into view. But there is hope. Even if it comes in small doses. Even if face-to-face caring tests my patience more than I wish to admit…
I remain in awe of the counselors, therapists, case workers, etc who sew these stitches every day.
A Matter of the Heart
I have a storage closet inside my music classroom. Shelves lining both walls hold musical instruments. There are stacks of chairs in one corner and drums in the other.
At various times in the year, certain sets come out.
There is a narrow walkway between the shelving.
More than once this school year, I’ve glanced in there with the following thought: would I be able to fit an entire class of students in here? I’m not sure. If I quickly moved some things out. But would there be enough time?
That is where I stop my spiraling thoughts. Any further, and they’d be unbearable.
Every day, I stand on the sidewalk outside my school. Along with colleagues and student volunteers, make sure kids get safely to their cars.
Several times during the year, I almost left my phone inside the building. But then one thought would invade-what if something happens? An emergency? And quickly, I’d put my phone in my back pocket.
I’m not the only one carrying the weight of such thoughts. But we rarely talk about them. Until another tragedy occurs and we realize it could have been our school, our students, or our friends.
I see the sweet faces of the Uvalde, TX victims in photos shared by loved ones. I see the desperation in the sobs of those left to mourn and question.
My heart breaks.
But my sadness quickly turns to anger as I listen to sound bites. As I hear political figures speak of rights instead of solutions, perpetrators instead of victims.
There are solutions. And please don’t tell me there are no laws or policy changes that would affect this epidemic of gun violence in our country. There are. And they are logical. Why do we refuse to take a stand in their favor? Well, that’s a matter of the heart.
Our descendants weep
As the blood
Of the innocent
Soaks the ground
Beneath the feet
Of misplaced allegiance
Only Tears
The sky wept
Thru the night
Quieting only
For moments
At a time
To take a quick
Breath of air
That offered
No relief
No lightening
To break
The vast darkness
No thunder
To break
The veil of grief
Only the tears
Of broken hearts
Forever flowing
It must have been raining all over the world.
When?
Another
School day
Filled with
Laughter
Learning
Love
Shattered
By sounds
Gunshots
Impact
Screams
Cries for help
Violent deaths
Followed by
Silence-
Children
Teachers
Hiding, frightened
Training put
Into action
Training
That should never
Have been necessary
For actions
That should never
Have occurred
When will we decide enough is enough?
When will we choose love instead of hate?
When will we weep instead of arguing?
Mourn for
Innocent lives
Left lying
On the floor
Of the very place
They should have been safe
Today was our last day of school. Smiles, tears, good-byes. Ready for summer break. I drove home, exhausted. And then, I heard the news of another school shooting at an elementary school.
Listening to the reports was heartbreaking. And then there was a comment about training. The fact that students and teachers were hiding as they practiced. The same drills I have had to discuss or practice with students. It should not be this way. 💔
Intrusion
Unwelcome thoughts interrupted my morning. In those early moments when it was unclear if I was awake or still dreaming. Images that made my heart sink.
An image of me trying to secure a class of elementary students in my storage closet. Was there enough room for everyone? Wait, there is a glass view window in the classroom door. Can I lock the closet door from the inside?
Next, my daughter is in a similar scene. Except hers is a high school special education classroom.
I know why these thoughts appeared today.
A result of the news yesterday.
Another school shooting…
There have been so many in our country, it is impossible to keep track. That statement makes me sad. And while I know I cannot live in that sadness, it must be acknowledged.
I choose not to live my life in the what if’s. Yet, as an educator, these stories are troubling. As a spouse and parent of educators, they are personal. For all of us, they are heartbreaking.
I do not write to offer a solution. Only to express my heart. The heart of a teacher who loves her students and would do anything to protect them. A teacher, like many others, who are tired of the ugly truths that bring these intrusive thoughts.
I am thankful for all the smiling faces that greeted me as they entered our beautiful school this morning. Those smiles helped push the sadness away.
Rock-a-Bye-Baby
My parents rocked me when I was a baby. They sang lullabies, read stories. Made sure I was cared for. I grew up around babies-younger cousins and my brother. I rocked, fed, sang, and played with them. The example had been set for me. When I had my own children, I knew what to do, or at least, where to begin.
Not everyone has that experience. And some that do become so bombarded with the struggles of this life, they forget what is vital. When this happens, the next generation suffers.
Little brains and bodies don’t develop as they should. Gaps are created in connecting, learning, functioning. I see the results of these holes in growth every day. Improvement is possible, but it takes time and focused intention.
And then there are those days…brief moments of light shine through. A smile, a hug, a lightbulb turning on. The reason may not always be clear, but the result is cherished. I wrote the following poem after one of those days.
Holding on to the hope for more like it in the future. ❤
TOOTHY GRIN
The first time
I saw you
My only thought-
Do you ever smile?
Not even a hint
In your distant
Young eyes
And then one day
A toothy grin
Shone through
Your tough shell
Brief and unsure
But sweetly present
Reminding me
That you are
A child in need of
Reasons to smile
Hoping another
Reason will find
You again soon
Turning that
Toothy grin into
A beaming smile-
Lasting and confident
Missing Pieces
At the beginning of quarantine, we worked a couple of jigsaw puzzles at our house. A way to pass the time while keeping the brain working. It is always interesting to me to watch how tiny pieces fit together to create one big picture.
The pieces all have different colors and shapes. Each one with its own place. Only fitting together with those directly surrounding. The togetherness grows exponentially. However, if there is just one missing piece, the picture is incomplete. So frustrating.
Each of us is born into a picture. With a family that will love us and helps us grow. Sadly, that is not always the case. And the missing pieces often leave big holes.
Children especially have a difficult time finding their place when these pieces are missing. They do not understand. Whether withdrawing or acting out, they are seeking control. This is sometimes hard to remember as a teacher.
Yesterday, I reacted to certain behaviors with little thought to what was behind them. They were frustrated. I was frustrated. I kept thinking, “If only these friends would listen and follow directions like everyone else!”
This morning, I woke up thinking about those friends. I wanted to find a way to improve the situation. Find a way to encourage appropriate behavior and participation. After all, music class is supposed to be fun!
But how? One word came to mind-connections. I know that is the key. Sometimes I just need a reminder.
Today, I worked on those connections. In the process, I discovered some of the missing pieces. The death of a parent, negative influences from older siblings, family instability. These little ones are dealing with big emotions and don’t know why or how to express them.
Our time together was brief. Leaving me with more questions than answers. However, there was also a glimmer of hope. Little faces, often angry, smiling just a bit. Showing a desire to do the right thing. Even if only able for a limited amount of time.
There is no way for me to fill in those missing pieces. They are irreplaceable. All I can do is recognize and acknowledge. But maybe the edges can be blurred, and a new picture of belonging will emerge. Causing the frustrations of the missing pieces to fade.
Piano Girl 