Comforting Children under Attack

A Palestinian boy in Gaza

Note: If you wish to receive, via e-mail, (1) my weekly newsletter or (2) daily copies of these posts, notify me at [email protected] and indicate which you would like. I promise not to share your e-mail address with anyone. To unsubscribe, send me a follow-up email.

Thursday

Poet Joseph Fasano tweeted out a moving poem yesterday on how to comfort a child when you are being bombed or assaulted, as is occurring currently in Gaza, Ukraine, and other parts of the world. One respondent wrote back that the poem reminded her of the 1997 Italian film Life Is Beautiful, in which an inmate of a concentration camp tries to shield his son from its horrors by spinning a fantasy about it.

Childhood innocence is so important to us that we will go to great lengths to preserve it. When the situation is truly dire, our creativity knows no bounds.

Words Whispered to a Child under Siege
By Joseph Fasano

No, we are not going to die.
The sounds you hear knocking the windows and chipping the paint
from the ceiling, that is a game
the world is playing.
Our task is to crouch in the dark as long as we can
and count the beats of our own hearts.
Good. Like that. Lay your hand
on my heart and I’ll lay mine on yours.
Which one of us wins
is the one who loves the game the most
while it lasts.
Yes, it is going to last.
You can use your ear instead of your hand.
Here, on my heart.
Why is it beating faster? For you. That’s all.
I always wanted you to be born
and so did the world.
No, those aren’t a stranger’s bootsteps in the house.
Yes, I’m here. We’re safe.
Remember chess? Remember
hide-and-seek?
The song your mother sang? Let’s sing that one.
She’s still with us, yes. But you have to sing
without making a sound. She’d like that.
No, those aren’t bootsteps.
Sing. Sing louder.
Those aren’t bootsteps.
Let me show you how I cried when you were born.
Those aren’t bootsteps.
Those aren’t sirens.
Those aren’t flames.
Close your eyes. Like chess. Like hide-and-seek.
When the game is done you get another life.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.