When Is It Enough?

What do you tell a child when their palms reach for the stove? Simmering red with heat and a pain they won’t repeat, Do you tell them to stop, to let their hand drop? Will they know the seer of blisters when they try to burn their sisters? Stab them in the back with a blade of flames or a plethora of names, look over their shoulder and see the skin smolder black with a stench that water can’t quench as smoke permeates veiling the pain the sparks create; will they understand the grandness of their scheme to make a scene? No. But then do you stand and watch, turn the heat up a notch, as the steel pierces their fingertips with a fire so intense you can’t get higher? Prepare the ice so you seem nice when it may heal the wound with a kiss to bring a smile if only for a while because you know the scar will stretch a mile And never fade away. What do you tell a child when a friend slaps them in the face? Tears roll down their cheeks from a mark that’ll last for weeks as anger drives them towards what they seek and you know revenge reeks, but you also remember that smirk that worked when you hit back. The power you felt in that same hour. Adrenaline pounding – just pounding through your veins because it was a victory And you were at the reins. Doesn’t that child deserve the same feat? Or will you venture even farther and ask for something harder? Do you dare ask that child whose gone wild with hate to admit their peer made a mistake – to welcome them back into a happy embrace without any trace of the mistrust that has boiled inside such a young and innocent mind? It’s like telling a hurricane to wane even as the wind is picking up speed, too much so to heed any warning dispersed – it may even make things worse. You expect that of a child who doesn’t understand? Can you even command control to so large a degree that you can truly be free? Yeah, I didn’t think so! What do you tell a child when they say something is wrong? When a girl complains that she likes sports too much, that her weight has become her crutch as she weaved her way through all the rumors of all the consumers, their whispers haunting her ears, confirming her fears that she’s not pretty, not quite skinny enough to be loved enough, befriended enough, respected enough. Have the strength to tell her “That’s enough!” When a boy cries out because he cared too much about his face that he forgot he was supposed to win the race even as he braced himself for the beating he knew his “bros” would throw because he wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, respected enough. Have the will to tell him “That’s enough!” The problem isn’t the power to say it, but the way it – is the image smears itself on all the mirrors and in every mind you’ll find a photograph of perfection, like an infection – a virus that the media spreads through young heads. Ask them of beauty, they’ll have that recollection; they’re all the same by every name in this silly game called life. The question exists – it persists insisting even as the child’s cries are heard in words they conceive, but will they believe that their perception of perfection is false enough, crazy enough, stupid enough for them to stand and yell “That’s enough!” How can a child have that strength when we do not? What do you tell a child when their dreams shatter into pieces? The kingdom tumbles as someone kicks the bricks snapping sticks of the forest we destroyed and in this desecrated mess with the child be so blessed to have an angel lay the mortar for the castle – no – it’s such a hassle so instead they smash the castle into ash without any warning of the shards of glass that may catch their feet in an unexpected treat of defeat. Rather, people clip the child’s wings; silence the voice with which the child sings by telling them they can’t – squishing them like an ant. Find a different goal, they say, but here’s the thing; that goal won’t fill your soul. How dare you push them down that hole Of darkness? Do you not like these options, laid out on a platter that matters – an effect on innocence since childhood is so pure? Sure it doesn’t deserve the swerves we send it on, but that is not the issue, lest the problem miss you. Have the motivation, imagination, stand on your toes and shout your opinion to all your minions because those who refuse to lose the world they’ve lived in submit to you in their failure. Don’t you quit. Serenade a better world so children learn to yearn for friends who won’t hurt, embrace love and forget all the dirt; have confidence hence dreams will no longer be brick and stone but armor. It’ll only come if we recognize our error, bring about a world that’s fairer. Hurry up fast, stop dwelling on the past before it’s too late if you hesitate then it won’t be up to you anymore because the children will be all grown up.