a three year old in red suit,
Dutch boy hair cut -- colour black;
aside my dad in church
Reverend singing words of praise,
a sermon reaching out to congregation __
God and hellfire
Then off it was to Sunday School, a milder teach,
because a teary little girl
feared the preacher’s wrath
Blind eyed,
mother never felt a need
to practice what she preached
Place the squalling brats
on weekly bus
and breathe sighs of relief__
"bloody brats"
I never knew the word
in youth
to represent this common sequel
of our household
The old "Do as I say, not as I do" routine
These words stick in my craw
Hypocrisy _ choke _ there I said it
Send the kids to learn of Love
then hate the man with whom you dwell
and so says he of she
Blame to blame
send mixed messages;
shame – disorientation – fragmentation of emotions
leaving children hungrily grabbing, reaching for affection
that could never be attained
See how the child
clings to the past,
remembers lessons __ deep impressions,
taught well or not __ do last