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He
stood among his friends from school;
he
joined their childhood games.
Laughing
as they played kickball,
and
when they called poor Sarah names.
Sarah
was unlike the rest;
she
was slow and not to smart.
And
it would seem to all his friends;
she
was born without a heart.
And
so he gladly joined their fun,
of
making Sarah cry.
But
somewhere deep within his heart,
he
never knew just why.
For
he could hear his mother's voice,
her
lessons of right and wrong.
Playing
over and over inside his head,
just
like a favorite song.
"Treat
others with respect son,
the
way you'd want them treating you.
And
remember, when you hurt others,
someday,
someone might hurt you."
He
knew his mother wouldn't understand,
the
purpose of their game.
Of
teasing Sarah, who made then laugh,
as
her own tears fell like rain.
The
funny faces that she made,
and
the way she'd stomp her feet.
Whenever
they mocked the way she walked
or
stutter when she'd speak.
To
him she must deserve it,
because
she never tried to hide.
And
if she truly wanted to be left alone,
then
she should stay inside.
But
every day she'd do the same;
She'd
come outside to play.
And
stand there, tears upon her face,
too
upset to run away.
The
game would soon be over,
as
tears dropped from her eyes.
For
the purpose of their fun,
was
making Sarah cry.
It
was nearly two whole months;
he
hadn't seen his friends.
He
was certain they all must wonder,
what
happened and where he'd been.
So
he felt a little nervous,
as
he limped his way to class.
He
hoped no one would notice,
he
prayed no one would ask.
About
that awful day;
The
day his bike met with a car.
Leaving
him with a dreadful limp,
and
a jagged- looking scar.
So
he held his breath a little,
as
he hobbled into the room.
Where
inside he saw a "Welcome Back" banner,
and
lots of red balloons.
He
felt a smile cross his face,
as
his friends all smiled too.
And
he couldn't wait to play outside,
his
favorite thing to do.
So
the second that he stepped outdoors,
and
saw his friends all waiting there.
He
expected a few pats on the back,
instead,
they all stood back and stared.
He
felt his face grow hotter,
as
he limped to join their side.
To
play a game of kickball,
and
of making Sarah cry.
An
awkward smile crossed his face,
when
he heard somebody laugh.
And
heard the words, "Hey freak,
where'd
you get the ugly mask?"
He
turned, expecting Sarah,
but
Sarah could not be seen.
It
was the scar upon his own face,
that
caused such words so mean.
He
joined in their growing laughter,
trying
hard not to give in.
To
the awful urge inside to cry,
or
the quivering of his chin.
They
are only teasing;
he
made himself believe.
They
are still my friends;
they'd
never think of hurting me.
But
the cruel remarks continued,
about
the scar and then his limp.
And
he knew if he shed a single tear,
they'd
label him a wimp.
And
so the hurtful words went on,
and
in his heart he wondered why.
But
he knew without a doubt,
the
game would never end,
until
they made him cry.
And
just when a tear had formed,
he
heard a voice speak out from behind.
"Leave
him alone you bullies,
because
he's a friend of mine."
He
turned to see poor Sarah,
determination
on her face.
Sticking
up for one of her own tormentors,
and
willing to take his place.
And
when his friends did just that,
trying
their best to make poor Sarah cry.
This
time he didn't join in and at last,
understood
exactly why.
"Treat
others with respect son,
the
way you'd want them treating you.
And
remember when you hurt others,
someday,
someone might hurt you."
It
took a lot of courage,
but
he knew he must be strong.
For
at last he saw the difference,
between
what's right and wrong.
And
Sarah didn't seem so weird,
through
his understanding eyes.
Now
he knew he'd never play again,
the
games of making Sarah cry.
It
took several days of teasing,
and
razzing from his friends.
But
when they saw his strength,
they
chose to be like him.
And
now out on that playground,
a
group of kids meet everyday.
For
a game of kickball and laughter,
and
teaching their new friend,
Sarah,
how to play.
Written
By:
Cheryl
Costello-Forshey
Copyright 1998
I
thank you Cheryl for giving me permission
to
use this beautiful and meaningful poem!
Love,
Sandy
Cheryl's
email link is below
 
  
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