There Must Be More

“She walked out of the house slamming the door in rage.  Behind her the glass shattered and fell from the window of a door that had been opened and closed many times before.  Rage was the only emotion she knew how to express because she had great teachers in her parents.  The sad part is that she was only 10 years old.” And so the story goes in many homes.

Children learn from their first teachers how to respond to life’s circumstances.  Fortunately and unfortunately those first teachers are their parents.  Nearly every day I read an article in our paper about how another child has been hurt, abused and sometimes left to die.  Why?  I can ask this question all day every day and never know the answer.  I dedicate this post to those of us who have battled through our past to find a better way for ourselves.  May we be mindful of the innocence of children and may we; even those without our own, be willing to care for the needs of a child.

There Must Be More

As early as I can remember, perhaps I was four.

I would look out the window

There must be more

Angry voices at night, broken glass on the floor

I look to the skies

There must be more

Tears falling like rain behind this closed door

I wrap up in a blanket

There must be more

Can I at least get rewarded for completing my chore

I wash my hands

There must be more

Maybe if I’m successful with a great test score

What if I miss the mark

There must be more

Who really gives a shit what they think anymore

I will make the most of  my life

There must be more 

There must be more

I was 14 or 15 when I wrote this poem.  Each time I asked this question then and each time I ask it now, I am convinced that there really is more. 

May every child one day know the hope that many of us have found because there really and truly is more.

Thank you for stopping by,

Amy Lynn Michael

crackedpotts@gmail.com