A few of you may have both read this poem back when I posted it on another blog. Perhaps you saw the account of this particular abandonment in the news, especially those of you in the Pacific Northwest. Even with all that publicity, more abandonments have happened. The simple fact is they don’t have to in most states. States like Washington have what is called a Safe Haven law. If the mother feels she cannot care for her child within a few days after it is born she can give the child up without repercussions (legal) provided she takes the child to one of a few designated places, like a church or fire station. She must give some information, but she won’t be charged with abandonment… and the child will be safe. Please, y’all go to the site, check out if your state or the state of your child’s college have Safe Haven laws. Make your teenager aware of the law…. That single action could prevent a child from being left to roll down an embankment like this child.
I told this story from the perspective of the baby, as if the child knew what love really was. Grab a tissue. Then make a difference before you forget by sharing the poem or at least the link to Safe Haven information, some laws may have been changed or added in states that previously had none. Please, verify your state law, now that you know the law is out there.
I’m sure you didn’t know the law
it wasn’t advertised
- that well-
you must not have known,
that the firemen
would have smiled (or tried)
in their arms
and not even asked
your name –
but nodded in understanding, thinking:
you did, for you, the right thing;
you did, for me, the right thing
by bringing me to him.
I was a precious gift,
you had done your best. . .
I’m sure you were just scared.
I know you wouldn’t abandon me
- not the way you did-
IF YOU WEREN’T SCARED. . .
It had to be you,
who threw me out. . .
in that plastic bag. .
Or was it someone else?
My eyes were not open yet
I’d not been introduced
I had only just been born.
You must have been really scared. .
Did you not know the law?
made to protect you, too -
that they would keep me instead
and help me grow up proud
and find a mom to love me
and a dad to love me, too.
I would have loved you anyway. . .
I would have known you cared.
Did you throw me gently out?
because I was not hurt,
I took a little rolling ride
along the gentle weeds
as each one lifted up a leaf
and caressed me through the bag,
guiding me gently to a stop
and made me to just cry.
Someone was looking after me
why not you?
That someone looking after me,
rolled me down the hill, so my cries
did spill into the night. . .
That someone looking after me,
was looking after you, too.
I know you don’t believe it’s true
but I am alive, so they have saved you, too.
My cries reached out to a woman’s heart,
one who was with child –
she heard my cries and sent her man
to brave the night
and climb the fence of steel. . .
or was it a flimsy fence and he was a man of steel,
the latter, I think, for he rescued me
and saved me from another fate.
You must have been really, really. . .
really scared. . . and didn’t know the rules. . .
I would never have forgotten you. . .
they would have told me that you cared. . .
Marcia McLees Bogaert
The poem beneath this post with the Stop Abuse button for this post riding mostly in its post, a quirk of the template, shows how it should have been for this child, how it could be if loving parents raise it…. it is a quick ditty about the first time perfume affected the little boy. It will make you smile, but don’t forget the tears you have now.
This poem was reposted on this blog as part of the Stop Abuse project linked below. My poems are copyrighted. This one may be reprinted as long as I am credited as the author. Thank you.
I also wrote about three other abuses, links to all four can be found here: McLeesBogaert
Please, if you have something to say about Abuse, any Abuse, speak up, say it…. say it in your blog, post it on someone else’s blog, write it somewhere, say it out loud…. One of us will make a difference. It doesn’t matter which one of us as long as it is someone.