Thursday, July 18, 2013

My sadness for the Martin family this week made me want to cry, and as I witnessed Trayvon's mother's strength I remembered this poem I wrote many years ago.

When Can I Cry?  ©  Elaine Jones 2005  (version 1)
When I was one year,
I fell and skinned my knee.
My mother hugged me. She said “Don't cry.

When I was ten years,
I got beat up at school.
The teacher gently said “Don't cry.

When I was twenty years,
I lost my true love.
Friends gathered round. They said, “Don't cry.
When I was thirty years,
my mother, then my father died.
My pastor told me - they are in a better place “Don't cry

When I was forty, my alcoholic husband [wife] left.
Everyone said - you'll have a better life “Don't cry.”

When I was fifty years, my young daughter took an overdose,
The social worker said, you did your best “Don't cry

When I was sixty my dearest son was killed in war,
The president sent me a letter,
 it said I had a son who was very brave “Don't cry

When I was seventy years, I was broke…
no money - couldn't buy oil for heat.

Wall Street journal said…
Things will get better, “Don't cry.

When I was eighty years, I lost my home. I had nowhere to go,
I'm all alone… Can't cry
And now at ninety I lie here…
Waiting…
Waiting to be buried…

I just want to know...  When?
When can I cry???

 

 

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