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Karen C Vanderlaan

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Member Since: May, 2006

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Walking Wounded
by Karen C Vanderlaan

Friday, April 22, 2011
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Recent poems by Karen C Vanderlaan
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           >> View all 474

A few of my kids

Walking Wounded

 
They are everywhere, the walking wounded,
Will they learn to heal their wounds?
Or will those wounds fester and ooze their poison,
Into society one way or another?
 
His mother has gone to prison for a year,
She's getting out today at noon.
Instead of his usual oversized t-shirt,
Today he is so handsome in a sweater.
 
His dad will pick him up early from school,
He can hardly wait.
But Tyler can't behave himself,
And gets suspended before his dad comes.
 
She has been molested from the age of two,
By a big brother then at least two step-fathers,
And now by another boy in school,
Who promised to be her boyfriend until "the incicdent."
 
And he is faced with the reality,
That his brother is also his uncle,
For his mother though married to his brother's dad,
Became pregnant by her husband's brother, his dad.
 
And she hasn't lived at home for a year,
At fourteen she lives in the home of her boyfriend,
So along with school, and homework, and make-up and her hair,
She must keep track of birth control and pregnancy,
And money, and bills and all kinds of grown-up stuff.
 
They are everywhere, the walking wounded,
Will they learn to heal their wounds?
Or will those wounds fester and ooze their poison,
Into society one way or another?
 
 
 

 

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Reviewed by MaryGrace Patterson 10/27/2012
Children always seem to pay the price for their parents transgressions . Its a sad trueism of this world we live in. It's affects are far reaching and indented in their young souls forever...M
Reviewed by Cryssa C 11/16/2011
Not in the same genre, but I understand how sad it is to watch the wounded try to make sense of their worlds and have seen how those wounds can fester and infect their poison... into families and society... There is so much pain! :(
But, I have also seen the other side and have watched as some of my own hurting children have broken free and are making their way to recovery. They are survivors and that is why we fight... you and I, in our different ways and different battles, to help the wounded heal. For when we see that light come on in their souls, and see them trying to stitch up the holes, repair the damage, reach out to someone else... it is then that we are rewarded.

Cryssa
Reviewed by Terry Rizzuti 4/26/2011
I think this is among your best poems, Karen. Great job.
Reviewed by Felix Perry 4/23/2011
Gripping write that strikes at the heart strings of all parents who have raised children but realize the evil that other children often face.
fee
Reviewed by George Carroll 4/22/2011
You go to the core of the problem, So sad
Reviewed by Debby Rosenberg 4/22/2011
it is difficult to step back and see them as potential rather than victims, however it is true and we may never know or understand the greater picture of their souls journey. In the meantime, it does allow our hearts to learn compassion in knowing the depths of what they are experiencing. As always Karen, you are a special soul in their lives.
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone 4/22/2011
So many young people walk around with wounded egos, hearts, souls, bodies...it is a tragedy and a systematic example of how abuse continues from generation to generation. So sad, so frustrating, so much in need of a cure. How do we start? It is an insurmountable task.

You write truth, and eye opening poetry. I love you for that.

Much peace, love and light,
Amber
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 4/22/2011
It is so tragic that so many children are robbed of their childhood in our society. A most apt, timely, and compassionate write, Karen. Thank you for sharing it. It "hits home" for me because until I took early retirement, I was an educator for many years. Love and best wishes,

Regis
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader) 4/22/2011
They might just come out of it in fine fashion, Karen, but they sure as hell have the odds stacked against them. I had my problems, but in those days nothing like what you are describing came up. I'm not saying that some of it didn't go on, but nothing like it is these days. You have a magnificent, BIG heart, and I am happy to call you my friend.
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