Son Poem

The Other Side

Young son, labeled,
as if with glue,
held in place
to look at, observe.
They have stuck him
in an enclosed classroom,
where every day
is special,
emotional control
weighted on top
of all else.

Fifteen children,
each the same
but different,
each very special
in their own way.
Three teachers,
highly trained
in methods of restraint;
of how to depress
the unpeeled.
I was also different,
the only single father
there, my delicate balance,
learning the art
of holding on.

We converse often,
each of us has a side.
I would inform
of all the negatives
that happened at home.
They would state
all the positives
that occurred at school.
We all have thoughts
that cling inside,
that are kept hidden,
about what is beneath;
the part adhering
to what is shown,
the part none of us
are able to see.




... remembering those more difficult times during his elementary school days five or six years ago.