Crying

to stop the dread,

‘Please don’t make me go.’

Crying to be heard,

‘Don’t make me go.’

She pauses. (Thankfully.)

My small body leans, limp,

into hers. Hers sits now

on couch spine, hands around me.

Before us, the hall yawns toward stern front door.

‘Please can I stay home today?’

Another shudder,

more tears.

In my growing self I know

what school takes, what it gives away

as if useless and bad.

But.

I was marched out to face again

what I hated,

and these many years later I know–

had my little heart been heard

that day my life would have changed.