Mother and son, a strong bond
one would think.
Yet abuse can never be seen by
a covered eye. This mother and son,
Such hate. Such anguish. Such loathing.
This busy square, so many eyes
none seeing, none knowing.
She pulls him forward, and he resists
it’s the ultimate tug of war!
I could intervene, but learn society would not.
She turns to him to scream, and scream she does;
yet he is unmoving, unblinking.
This busy square, so many ears
none hearing, none knowing.
He opens his mouth, as if to scream
but muffled by the hand; so carefully timed.
He falls to the floor,
a hand over his now sore cheek.
Before; running, running
far from there.
His mother turns without a care,
and is lost among the sea of people.
This busy square, so many hearts
none feeling, none knowing.
About,
what isn’t pure,
what isn’t perfect.
So I wonder to myself.
do those people really see?
This society is blinded by its own corruption
I ask again
and again,
for all eternity it would seem.
Why can’t society see?
© Copyright 2018 Ann Morse. All rights reserved.
Comments
Another excellent poem. Society tends to teach us not to intervene, to turn away and not get involved. And how many times have both parties turned on a third party.....it's a very hard thing knowing what to do.
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Reply
Thank you
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