Yesterday, my heart about broke when I heard reports of unkindness towards one of my precious ones. Rejection hurts worse when it’s them…

My stings are my stings-

Not so thrilling

But something which

I mostly keep to me…

I do my best to shrug it off,

Squirt on a smidge of Bactine

And keep soldiering.

Perhaps, it is conditioning

From the long years of pain.

Can’t let it show, you know.

But…when the sting is not yours,

But, rather, ones you love?

Their bruises seep straight down to

Your very blood and bones.

Crueler are the cuts you helplessly 

Witness

Than the ones you harbor on your own.

Keener are the aches that pass

From their heart to yours…

Oh, the powerlessness 

Of it all!

Fierce is the battle for acceptance….

Oh, that we did not always have to send

Our fragile young out to face it!

All I know to do sometimes is

 Lean my head close

And cry their tears,

Ponder the unattainable whys

Of these tortured years,

Rest a while in a mutual

All-too-recognizable pain,

And then guide each to 

Square shoulders once more

And leap into the fray again…

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