orphaned by hate
As the sun made its shy appearance,
slowly rising from the horizon,
you lifted your head from your pillow
full of anxious anticipation.
The outfit you chose the night before
to adorn your growing stature.
The smell of breakfast in the kitchen
says you are loved.
Too excited to eat, you quickly dress
and strut around the house
one last time
before the bus arrives.
Kisses and hugs.
Don't forget your lunchbox.
Let me fix your hair.
Did you brush your teeth?
Be kind to your new friends.
Do what the teacher says.
We'll see you when you get home.
The new teacher seems nice.
Parents are taking pictures.
Some cry as they say goodbye.
and a bell rings in the hall
signaling a return
to the only home you've ever known.
As the great star begins its daily descent,
you and your friends wait in line for
your sun drenched transportation
only to be pulled,
one by one,
into another room
that feels more like a mausoleum
than an auditorium this afternoon.
Through the doorway
you see classmates
reunited with protective parents
who cannot bear the thought
of what you are about to hear
and whose eyes cannot meet your own.
Orphaned by hate,
your tears fall on foreign soil
as the lesser light precariously hangs in the sky
providing just enough illumination to cast
a long shadow of aloneness that will be
your only companion tonight.