Hunched at the dinner table,
meal untouched and cold,
I was about to slip down
when Dad said: ‘Ungrateful child,
refusing to eat your food.
I wasn’t born yesterday. Stop lying
and crying and go to your room!’
But you were born before me,
way back in history, and you
should have known better.
Once upon a time, in the yesterday
of war, you were sent to your aunts
in Wales, and you were bullied too.
Kim M. Russell, 6th April 2024
On day six of Na/GloPoWriMo we’ve been challenged to write a poem rooted in ‘weird wisdom’, something objectively odd that someone told us once that has stuck with us. The example we’ve been given to inspire us is Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem ‘Making a Fist’.
writing in north norfolk 
Sad.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We remember some things deeply. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
We do, Kitty.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You make it feel like yesterday Kim, these words spoken to make the small feel smaller.
LikeLiked by 1 person
They were, Dora.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, how those injustices still rankle!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Those things that stick with us. So sad, Kim.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It stays with you, Merril.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I imagine it does, Kim. 😔
LikeLiked by 1 person
The understatement here makes this so much more powerful. Adults can so easily plant their own wounds into children’s fertile hearts. To grow up and understand this is to begin to heal. You’ve expressed this so well here!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Camilla!
LikeLike
So unfortunate so many parents end up perpetuating the unkind ways they were treated instead of doing better. 😢
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m sad to say it was like that for many children growing up in the fifties and sixties.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I work with kids and, trust me, it still is. 😢
LikeLike
Yes, I encountered it when I was a teacher.
LikeLiked by 1 person