'Take My Hand'

He stands there alone and on display

Doesn’t know where to look or what he should say

He feels their stares but cannot meet their eyes

Will they think he’s strange if he runs or cries? 

It isn’t 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 aren’t clean
She sees that he’s 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
There’s a space right there, a seat that’s free
I think it was waiting for someone like you

Who needed a friend to help you through

He didn’t look up but I felt his heart leap

Could he be a friend, a friend I might keep?

Others turn and stare in disgust
That’s not a boy they ever would trust! 

We’re out in the playground and all of the girls

Keep to themselves like we’re not of this world

But I don’t 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 don’t 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?
He’s human, he’s 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 it’s 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 don’t see and their hearts of stone 

But I know I am willing to take this boy’s 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 can’t 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 don’t teach them to care and to give

What kind of an empty life will they live?

© Annette Hansen 2005