Poem, about Bad People / Choices
Well, here's that poem. Some of you have read it already, when I wrote it at the time. I even changed the names and wrote a version on fb, I think. Written end of May 2012, the day Gloria broke off our friendship (we'd known each other 15? years) because she didn't like me calling her out on being verbally, and psychologically abusive to her girlfriend's son.
A friend said after reading that it's full of a lot of love. :\
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Horrible Gloria and the Quivering Boy
We are what we choose to be.
Without speaking our love
we wither,
we shrink,
we resent others for not being withered.
We forget how to make love bloom,
and cut down others' new shoots.
I promise I won't forget.
I love you.
I love you, and I love them, and her, and him, and him.
Why say this now?
An old friend has a new hobby:
she takes sport in wielding her words like knives,
wounding her partner's son, again,
cutting him down, bullying, baring teeth,
hurt that he chooses to try playing Monopoly on his own,
instead of joining her Dark Side.
The boy defies the Emperor!
Gloria aims to crush him,
grins to see him stumble when she mentally trips him for his cheek.
She may even cackle once or twice.
The boy is eight years old.
Seeing this, finally my conscience wells up
NO.
And my words rise,
and tumble out,
awkward but plain as day,
and Gloria did not like it,
not one little bit.
But after, sitting alone with the quivering boy,
who turned sideways to hide tears he wiped away,
I told him I love him,
and that he is Good.
And he is Brave.
And I hugged him.
And I told him that he deserves happiness, and fun.
And later, a hopeful claim: that everyone in that house loved him,
but some people just aren't so good at showing it, or saying it.
Some people have it rough, and don't know how to love.
Some people are hurt bad.
Some people forget who they are.
After everything, the boy went to take a shower.
He asked his mom, quietly, if I could stay.
I'd become a stray, that he so wanted to adopt.
I would have joined his family in a minute, if that would fix it, instead of making it worse.
The Emperor was in the other room, grumbling and complaining.
The boy took a shower, and came out just as I was about to leave.
"Bye, Bex", he said, looking over at me.
His towel dropped. He didn't care about that.
Bye, Logan, I said, not caring about his towel either, but refraining from walking over and hugging his naked kid self just then.
We shared a look, and then I left, and went home.
I hope he remembers about love.
***
I tell you that I love you now because there's no time to wait.
I will not watch Horrible Glorias rip love to shreds anymore.
I would cover us all with love bandages, or have a Love Cat lick us clean, if that would heal all our wounds.
But, even if our scars have set, and it's too late for some of us,
I choose love, right now.
A friend said after reading that it's full of a lot of love. :\
-----------
Horrible Gloria and the Quivering Boy
We are what we choose to be.
Without speaking our love
we wither,
we shrink,
we resent others for not being withered.
We forget how to make love bloom,
and cut down others' new shoots.
I promise I won't forget.
I love you.
I love you, and I love them, and her, and him, and him.
Why say this now?
An old friend has a new hobby:
she takes sport in wielding her words like knives,
wounding her partner's son, again,
cutting him down, bullying, baring teeth,
hurt that he chooses to try playing Monopoly on his own,
instead of joining her Dark Side.
The boy defies the Emperor!
Gloria aims to crush him,
grins to see him stumble when she mentally trips him for his cheek.
She may even cackle once or twice.
The boy is eight years old.
Seeing this, finally my conscience wells up
NO.
And my words rise,
and tumble out,
awkward but plain as day,
and Gloria did not like it,
not one little bit.
But after, sitting alone with the quivering boy,
who turned sideways to hide tears he wiped away,
I told him I love him,
and that he is Good.
And he is Brave.
And I hugged him.
And I told him that he deserves happiness, and fun.
And later, a hopeful claim: that everyone in that house loved him,
but some people just aren't so good at showing it, or saying it.
Some people have it rough, and don't know how to love.
Some people are hurt bad.
Some people forget who they are.
After everything, the boy went to take a shower.
He asked his mom, quietly, if I could stay.
I'd become a stray, that he so wanted to adopt.
I would have joined his family in a minute, if that would fix it, instead of making it worse.
The Emperor was in the other room, grumbling and complaining.
The boy took a shower, and came out just as I was about to leave.
"Bye, Bex", he said, looking over at me.
His towel dropped. He didn't care about that.
Bye, Logan, I said, not caring about his towel either, but refraining from walking over and hugging his naked kid self just then.
We shared a look, and then I left, and went home.
I hope he remembers about love.
***
I tell you that I love you now because there's no time to wait.
I will not watch Horrible Glorias rip love to shreds anymore.
I would cover us all with love bandages, or have a Love Cat lick us clean, if that would heal all our wounds.
But, even if our scars have set, and it's too late for some of us,
I choose love, right now.