Children...

A step away from ranting and sarcastic humor if you would bear with me for a while

A child is for life not just for Christmas.

Its hard to me to comprehend how parents can abuse or mistreat and even abandon their children. Sure parent's aren't born perfect. Even with all the striving, perfection is never attained. But what drives a mother, who spent 9 months with unspeakable (often insatiable) food urges, perpetual back pains and god know how many hours of God agonizing hours in labor, to do that to their child. I honestly do not understand. And I'm not quite sure I want to.

This however, reminds me of two random thoughts at this point.

The first is that women would probably tell me of course I wouldn't understand. I don't bleed monthly nor do I have to undergo (thank God) the agony of childbirth. All the more, however, that the act of abandonment or abuse makes no sense to me. Well, daddy did say not to trust anything that bleeds for a week and doesn't die.

The other is a joke a friend told me.

Question
Why do women give birth?

Answer
Because its painful and they deserve it.

A sexist joke that brings grins to men and chagrin to women. Frankly speaking, I'm inclined to agree with this joke. At the risk of sounding self righteous, damn straight these mothers (abusive / child dumpers) deserve any pain that comes their way.

I write stories for children, (believe it or not!) simply because I find children quite simply beautiful. Children often times seem so much wiser than us 'grown ups'. They see things in a way that is pretty much pure and untainted. They have the innate ability to see through all the crap and pretentiousness we put on due to society and conventions.

A clear example would be when one of the kids told me that my haircut (not one of my better ones I assure you) looked like a mushroom gone wrong. Something everyone was thinking but too polite to say. Of course at this point I wished I could throttle the little tyke, but at least she spoke her mind.

How could anyone want to hurt the innocence and trust that children place in you? At times it used to frighten me the amount of trust my friend's niece had in me. Uncle Bince is nice. I know it used to make me shiver, not because I was worried I would hurt or upset the lil angel, but that I might do so by mistake or accidentally.

When I was ill and in the hospital, I saw a really really beautiful child. Spare me the pedo jokes. She was in the ward because she had been abused by a relative. Which relative I do not have the faintest idea. But you could see the bruises, on her as well as within her. She would flinch when ever the nurse raised a hand to stroke her hair or to touch her. Then the innocence in her eyes would cloud over for the briefest of a second with fear. It was a heart breaking thing to see.

I'm seriously at a lost as to how to figure people like this. Blame it on the parent being abused as a child. Blame it on lack of financial means to support the child; thus the abandonment. Blame it on anything I guess. Yet, the excuses in my honest opinion simply just do not add up and are in my point of view, completely unforgivable.

This poem's for the little girl I saw in the ward, whose name I do not know.

My Lost Child

what beauty lies
in your eyes?
an innocence angels would envy
a tenderness devils would shy from
a glimmer of hope
from a fading candle.

All to rare
she smiles a solitude
beneath soft eye lashes
baby brown eyes
that have never known love
but are ever searching

I hope life treats her more kindly in the future. This next poem is one I wrote a long time ago for my friends two little nieces. Little angels. I do miss them dearly. Aiqha and Amyra =)

Little Amyra doesn't remember my voice any more. It’s been a while I guess. But here's the poem:

My Little Princess

My knee tall,
Perhaps knee short; little princess.
With your smile
that loves everyone best.

Little dimples that melt
into your tiny smile.
Little toes, little fingers
that move and wriggle all the while.

I love you and your gifts;
real or just ones in your mind.
I love you when you take them back
Saying 'Mine! Mine! Mine!'.

I love how little new things
make you ogle and stare.
How you 'tip-toe-ballerina' around
without a care.

I love how you plead
helplessness to your mother.
Failing that,
sink your teeth into your brother!

I love how you say my name,
'Uncle Bince! Uncle Bince!'
Sometimes it sounds better
than plain old Vince.

I love you when you frown,
deadly serious.
Then, break into laughter,
at some secret 'hilarious'.

They say all little angels
have fluffy little wings.
I carry mine, and we go
where ever she points and sings.


While I doubt I will ever have children of my own, the thought that children will read my stories does please me.

Everyone needs that little something to smile about.