The Right of a Child

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In the wake of recent events that have occurred in the US, today I start with a spoken word poem I wrote a while back: Make us children again We call ourselves your children, but don’t act like it As the wrinkles form on our skin, they begin to mesh into fences Informing us that it is now our job to cage our creativity As a child, everything is draped in disguise; language itself becomes an illusion Peering through the lenses of a glossy eyed child, every object becomes an endless possibility In the fall, a pile of leaves becomes a heap of hope, for once combined with the wind They will dance with space itself, spinning around and leaving streaks of spectral colors As child and nature begin to mingle with one another, they will be able to call themselves brothers In the winter a simple pile of frozen water becomes the blueprints for a fortress, or a sound foundation for the formation of joyful snowman. And when Christmas comes around, it really is about Santa, because children don’t have to be reminded about good will towards men In your name, we will harm one another The only part of youth we’ve retained is selfishly competing for the love a parent who doesn’t play favorites Help us remember the nice days when all that we needed to make a friend, was to say hello And if we didn’t speak the same language, a hug would suffice That the only judgment we had to make, was to see who won the race, and who truly was a rotten egg When we walk out into the world, all we care about is getting from point a to point b We simply forgot when we used to remember that x marked the…

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