"My daddy went to Oakland," wailed six-year-old Roger. "Where is Oakland?" he asked me, not knowing it was close by. "Is Oakland in Mexico?" Since at age six or seven children have no concept of geography, space, and distance, their thinking is bounded by the neighborhood they know. But their sorrow has no bounds.
Excerpt from What About The Kids? by Judith Wallerstein.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Underwater
Poem written by a young girl of divorce and abuse.
Children of divorce are 50% more likely to be abused than children with two parent homes.
Underwater
darkness falls again tonight
the wakes come crashing down
does anyone know my world in this town
i long to see the sunlight
the calmness I pray to see
all I ever wanted was to believe
talking underwater
drowning to get it out
my whispers, my muted shouts
i rise above the white-caps
trying to get to the other side
i am talking underwater
holding on to the seas hard rock
beating me black and blue
does anyone know what i am going through
i wait and ride the storm
the stillness smooth as glass
damages, miles of floating trash
i'll let go, but never forget
the deep, cold water far below
my whispers, muted shouts
talking underwater
Children of divorce are 50% more likely to be abused than children with two parent homes.
Underwater
darkness falls again tonight
the wakes come crashing down
does anyone know my world in this town
i long to see the sunlight
the calmness I pray to see
all I ever wanted was to believe
talking underwater
drowning to get it out
my whispers, my muted shouts
i rise above the white-caps
trying to get to the other side
i am talking underwater
holding on to the seas hard rock
beating me black and blue
does anyone know what i am going through
i wait and ride the storm
the stillness smooth as glass
damages, miles of floating trash
i'll let go, but never forget
the deep, cold water far below
my whispers, muted shouts
talking underwater
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