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A Poem by Ookpik
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pt9Xc4jO-Yc

"
.
.
.
Perhaps, 
.
It is the wounded child in us - 
.
The neglected infant - 
.
.
That calls so heartily for the importance of family,
.
For the value of virtuousness, and for that of justice.
.
.
Perhaps,
.
It is in each and every one of us,
.
This child of mourning -
.
Of grieving, and of lost innocence -
.
That reminds us how important it is to cherish that, which we may no longer get to have;
.
.
That, which when we now so happen to stumble across it
.
Appears only as a reflection of the thing we remember,
.
Of a thing that once, held such incommensurable importance.
.
.
I can say today, with complete certainty,
.
That it is the abandoned child in myself
.
That reminds me how strong a thing it is to love so unconditionally -
.
That reminds me of the broken heartedness,
.
The cracked glass so adjacent to growing up.
.

And perhaps, how different it would have been
.
Had I nurtured that child
.
Rather than instead, casually, bravely and with such retrospective ignorance,
.
Allowed him to fall away.
.
.
I think too,
.
That there exists that loss in each of us -
.
Where the mourning of every heartbreak thereafter
.
Is as no more than a symptom of the original injury,
.
No more than, by extension, a deepened fissure
.
Of that first lesson, in that the original loss.
.
.
I think, in our own ways,
.
We fight for the state of the world -
.
We call for change in our governments,
.
In our society,
.
From within ourselves -
.
As a terribly sad attempt to reconcile a wrong
.
Against the child we were all forced to let go.
.
.
Perhaps, it's true - 
.
That we all wage war upon the Tyger
.
To reconcile the death of our Lambs.
.
.
Perhaps we call for change
.
To reconcile the changes we can no longer affect.
.
.
Perhaps, at least, this might be the case.
.
Or perhaps again, the injured child is just another image -
.
Another vision, one of the universality
.
Of each our incubated, lost and wounded inner-children. 
.
.
As it is, injustice does in fact wear many hats
.
And strive as we might, I think it impossible to hang them all.
.
.
But if there is indeed a child still,
.
Weeping from within each our wounded,
.
Beleaguered and bewildered chests -
.
This child in us, weeping at the wrongness
.
While we throw against the world's ambivalence -
.
.
Than mine, at least,
.
I can learn to soothe back into bed -
.
And perhaps, in doing so,
.
Set some example for everyone else's.
.
.
.

© 2020 Ookpik


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Added on June 10, 2020
Last Updated on June 20, 2020

Author

Ookpik
Ookpik

Vancouver Island, British Columbia , Canada



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