FOR CHILDREN WHO KEEP BANGING
She is seventeen
and bangs her head
on walls
she bangs her head
her hands until
when they’re
raw they tie her down.
They tie her down
until when they can
do nothing with
her they seclude her
in institutions
where still nobody
can do nothing
they sign papers
tucking her
down on the table
leather straps
and tie her brain
to the sound
of a second
waves going
through her head
they call electroshock
each time
a little more
electrocution
they carry her
on carts
her heart
is damaged
until there
is nothing
more she
still bangs
her head
until
there is no more
thought
left
is the way they
want her
with no more
courage
she has nothing
left
her heart
is broken
against the side
of her head
And it is like
the little
girl
they left in
a closet
and didn’t
feed her
and left
with not enough
she too
a little
day each more
she died
until she no
longer
cried.
I watched
her then
just a little
girl, age twelve,
and no more
nothing they could
no more
if they tried
do something more;
She died then
a little girl
not to cry
anymore,
and like
I know these
little girls
like I know
myself
just crying
and trying
to remember
the last time
the leather
strap came
down is when
I started
banging back
only my
head kept dying
is when the
thought of
death when
the hands reach
out
only they’re
so scarred
from banging. . .
These little
girls
keep calling me
now
sometimes I wish
they’d stop.
Don’t call me
Don’t call me
but still the
telephone rings
with a little
girl. . .
Somehow we together
if we try
can call back
to her.
Somehow if we
stop sitting
here we can
take away
the leather straps,
the metal plates,
take away
the tables
and the empty
rooms and maybe
together if we
take away
all the
empty answers
and all the
filled up institutions
maybe if we
keep trying to
tear down
what people
don’t know
we can
reach out
with our hands
if we get
close enough to
Touch
If we Touch
This is what we
Have
For children
who keep
banging. . .
This is the
answer.
BLUEBIRD