Throwing Stones

An icy morning hasn’t yet begun
the crows look like they’re choking on their words while trying to call the sun
They shake their heads, shake their feathers, fly away and shake their bones
As if they felt the bad news that was coming—people throwing stones

There are some mornings when Simon wishes he were like those birds
He’d already got their spindly legs and when he talked folks thought he was absurd
But he wishes that he had the wings to carry him where he can be alone
Here folks don’t like ‘em awkward and they reinforce their power throwing stones

Sometimes the schools are teaching hatred
with a blind eye that condones the things they did.
Some folks don’t spend the time unlearing
lessons taught by other kids.

They say “you’ve got to stand up kid—
you may be strange you may be different from the pack.
You’ve got to hold your head high and look proud—and if you need to just fight back.”
But today the fear has caught him by the throat, he still tries to hold his own
But it’s hard to fight when he don’t think with violence, like people throwing stones.
I’d hate to see the day he learns to use his anger like the people throwing stones.

Copyright Tracy S. Feldman, All rights reserved