This is the weeping song,
Apr. 15th, 2002 01:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeThe Priest They Called Him works with disadvantaged and emotionally disturbed children. It's part of a youth program in this area that helps out children who have withstood massive abuse, mental and physical.
Today, he was telling us about the one little boy he's in charge of went to church services with him this afternoon. The boy was acting up. "I confiscated this from him today *holds up object* because he was drawing on the pew with it." It was a glitter chapstick. Being the mockingbird magpie that I am, I wanted to see. oooooh, shiny. TPTCH hesitated. "It's *insert name here*. The one who's....sick."
I knew exactly what he was talking about. This little boy has HIV, I don't remember how he contracted it. I shrugged and held my hand out anyway. I wanted to see it, regardless of the issue.
I held it in my hand and tuned out everyone else around me. I had originally wanted to see it because hell, it's fucking glitter chapstick! But then, as I turned it over and over in my little paw hands, my mind started to race.
This was a boy, a child, who has been handed down a death sentence. Through no fault of his own. It sickened me. I still feel nauseated over this.
I don't like children. I never plan on having them, not ever. But, I would never do such a thing. I'd never treat anybody like that. It's callous. It's careless. Cruel. I can't even believe that such monsters exist.
I know the one child he works with was sexually abused by his older brothers, before being put into a foster home (because of the abuse). He was molested and forced to have sex with grown woman.
At nine years old.
This staggers me.
---------
Driving this evening, with the windows down, coming back from TPTCH's home. My Nick Cave mix tape playing. Foot pressed hard to the pedal, to the floor. I like to speed. The wind blowing through the car and the sounds it makes calms me like nothing has before in my life.
And this time of year, the way everything smells green.
I could stay out all night long, just...driving.
Today, he was telling us about the one little boy he's in charge of went to church services with him this afternoon. The boy was acting up. "I confiscated this from him today *holds up object* because he was drawing on the pew with it." It was a glitter chapstick. Being the mockingbird magpie that I am, I wanted to see. oooooh, shiny. TPTCH hesitated. "It's *insert name here*. The one who's....sick."
I knew exactly what he was talking about. This little boy has HIV, I don't remember how he contracted it. I shrugged and held my hand out anyway. I wanted to see it, regardless of the issue.
I held it in my hand and tuned out everyone else around me. I had originally wanted to see it because hell, it's fucking glitter chapstick! But then, as I turned it over and over in my little paw hands, my mind started to race.
This was a boy, a child, who has been handed down a death sentence. Through no fault of his own. It sickened me. I still feel nauseated over this.
I don't like children. I never plan on having them, not ever. But, I would never do such a thing. I'd never treat anybody like that. It's callous. It's careless. Cruel. I can't even believe that such monsters exist.
I know the one child he works with was sexually abused by his older brothers, before being put into a foster home (because of the abuse). He was molested and forced to have sex with grown woman.
At nine years old.
This staggers me.
---------
Driving this evening, with the windows down, coming back from TPTCH's home. My Nick Cave mix tape playing. Foot pressed hard to the pedal, to the floor. I like to speed. The wind blowing through the car and the sounds it makes calms me like nothing has before in my life.
And this time of year, the way everything smells green.
I could stay out all night long, just...driving.