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Joy

I wasn’t a popular grade-school kid,
things were thown at me,
I was knocked down once,
so I knew kids could be cruel.
But once I walked to a swingset at recess
and Joy sat there alone.
She was teased
because she was overweight.
So I asked her why she was alone.
She turned her arm so I could see
the two-inch long bruise there.
She then got up and started to speak
and turned and lifted the back of her shirt.
She said some kids started hitting her
with the chains from the swingset;
then I saw her back.
I could see how the foot-long bruises
matched perfectly with the metal chains.

I didn’t know what to say.
These chains are for swings
so children could play.
This swing, this tool for joy
became a tool for unjust punishment.

I’ve seen this abuse before,
I’ve seen this happen to me,
and like before,
when thee bullies were gone,
there was nothing I could say.


Copyright Janet Kuypers.
All rights reserved. No material
may be reprinted without express permission.

This poem is also in the book OEUVRE.

Oeuvre


This piece is also in the book Etc.

poetry book Etc. poetry book Etc.