'Take My Hand'
He stands there alone and on display
Doesnít know where to look or what he should say
He feels their stares but cannot meet their eyes
Will they think heís strange if he runs or cries?
It isnít his fault that he ended up here
He misses old friends and the things he held dear
But they needed money and they travelled far
Leaving their home in their beaten up car
The teacher sees that his fingers arenít clean
She sees that heís small and unusually lean
And yet she still puts him up here on display
What kind of cruel game does this person play?
The girl in the back with the long, blonde hair
She feels so badly for the boy standing there
Exposed and ashamed and not part of the crowd
She wishes that she could just cry out loud
Come take my hand and sit by me
Thereís a space right there, a seat thatís free
I think it was waiting for someone like you
Who needed a friend to help you through
He didnít look up but I felt his heart leap
Could he be a friend, a friend I might keep?
Others turn and stare in disgust
Thatís not a boy they ever would trust!
Weíre out in the playground and all of the girls
Keep to themselves like weíre not of this world
But I donít care because my mum and my dad
Taught me that no one should ever be sad
I can take his dirty hand in my own
Why should any child ever feel alone?
Just because they donít look the same
Who am I to judge or cast blame?
How cruel can even the eight year-olds be
To say that this boy is not good for me?
Heís human, heís sad and he needs a friend
And we should all wish that his loneliness end
But what of these girls who sit together and stare
What gives them the right to judge what we wear?
I suppose itís the parents who taught them to scorn
To sneer at his shoes, so grubby and worn
Perhaps they were raised with pretty new dresses
And shoes that were new and clean, shiny tresses
But I fear that those girls may end up alone
With their eyes that donít see and their hearts of stone
But I know I am willing to take this boyís hand
And lead him on through this new and strange land
And to make him feel lucky that he has a friend
Whose right to be there, I will defend
When the weak are not able to stand up and fight
The strong must step forward and end their plight
You canít blame the children for what do they know?
It comes from the homes, where all children grow
It can be brutal in this schoolyard of life
Their critical words can stab like a knife
But if parents donít teach them to care and to give
What kind of an empty life will they live?
© Annette Hansen 2005