metamorphosis

reflect upon water

ripples

full circle

out of reach

a broken child shivers in tattered clothes as the frozen wind burns his exposed skin and blows sharp sand into his eyes

he isn’t safe 

a broken child urgently seeks safety and receives an embrace from well-meaning, contorted hands that change shape with every blink 

he isn’t safe 

will the hands that so lovingly hold him today still be there tomorrow? or will they disappear and shapeshift into shadow?

he isn’t safe 

the hands pick him up and place him alone in a dark room with no furniture. no doors, no windows but a breeze still blows and cuts his skin

he isn’t safe

the hands pick him up and set him down in places with dark faces and figures he doesn’t know and doesn’t trust and he isn’t safe 

he isn’t safe 

the hands so lovingly misplace him. over and over again. they lovingly hug him. they lovingly sell his toys for drug money. they lovingly take him to ice cream. they lovingly leave him alone in the car for hours at midnight. they lovingly make him dinner. they lovingly pour chemicals on his skin. they lovingly drive him to the playground. they lovingly pull his hair. they lovingly push him on the swing.

a broken child learns firsthand what love is. he isn’t safe. it isn’t safe. love isn’t safe

the hands

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the hands

Callahan Morgan

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