Walk down the
street at night
and tell me what you see?
It will differ for each of us,
depending on where you might be.
But one thing is always constant,
there is one thing that we’ll all see,
The small child that no one notices,
the small child that used to be me.
Look, do you see the child on the corner,
with her head hung down in shame?
She’s been beaten and abused,
her shoulders are heavy with blame.
She’s only a child of eight,
but her life is already gone.
Her nights are entirely too short
and her days unbearable long.
There over there in that big blue house,
with the long white picket fence.
Lives a mother that’s lost her courage
and a father that has no sense.
The youngest has already had broken bones,
his mom said he fell from the tree,
No one stopped to question the fact
that the boy is only three.
These people are your neighbors,
they could even be your mayor,
It could be your local police chief,
or the woman that does your hair.
Child abuse doesn’t distinguish,
between race color or creed,
Wealthy poor or middle class,
on ignorance it does feed.
Please for the sake of our children,
Open You Eyes and look around.
Together we can stop the crying,
and silence those pitiful sounds.
Copyright
1998 by Jill Maloy |
