“Parents wonder why the streams are bitter, when they themselves have poisoned the fountain.” – John Locke
“There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.” – Nelson Mandela
“A person’s a person, no matter how small.” – Dr. Seuss
Wounded
The tiny blonde woman wails like a banshee
Invoking her curse that I not see my children again
Since the Courts ruled she can’t see her children again
Says she will take me out like Rambo
Court orders sever familial ties
As Reunification services are terminated
A three-year-old boy
Whose name she doesn’t remember “You know, the one I hit.”
And social workers are left to assess detriment
For future visits with this parent
There will be no contact
And Jeffery learns he doesn’t have to hide
Each time he hears footsteps
Doesn’t cower at the knock on the door
The door is not after him It won’t slam him down
As when momma calls from the other side
His vocabulary multiplies each day
His now chubby freckled cheeks widen
As a grin spreads across his face
He runs to the waiting arms of his foster mother
Learning to trust – there are no tricks here
No fist hidden behind her back
Waiting to strike out
Like the eerie hissing of the snake
Whose incantations are lifted from my voice mail
Voice printing
As the sheriff’s department collects evidence
My office building covered with her picture
Covered with warnings – Do not approach
Report sightings immediately
She says that it is her daughter that she loves
The one with the heart condition … her name is Brittany
Does she remember?
Does she remember the names of any of the others?
Six others – each who have different homes
In different states across the country
Altered states
Is time healing their wounds? Do the scars show?
The deepest ones rarely do
Thousands of miles from here
Other social workers are dealing with scars
From the tiny blonde woman
Who wails like a banshee
On my voice mail
In their nightmares
In the quiet of my room
Late at night
Back at the office
I hesitate Before answering the phone
At work they tell me to be careful
“Watch your back” “get an escort to your car”
Reassurance that law enforcement is looking
For the tiny blonde woman
Is obtaining a warrant
They lie in wait for her
As she lie in wait for Jeffery
On the other side of the door
As she lies in wait for me
Wailing
This wounded animal
Lies in wait
Waiting to strike
And I wonder about the animal
That wailed lying in wait for her
Ripping its claws deep inside
Shredding her mind, her soul
Wounded, wailing
The tiny blonde woman
Wails and
Waits
Bisous,
Léa
poetry, photos and musings oh my! 
This is very powerful Lea. It hooks you in and keeps you reading…
Thank you Holly. It was a frightening time.
The fear very much comes across – so sad too.
Thank you. Yes, it was a very sad case as they usually are.
Sad and powerful, heavy on suspended fear and drama. What a good write,Lea!
It was surly a time when I had to watch my back. Yes it was sad for everyone. Thanks for your kind words.
This is so powerful Lea and very topical for me at the moment.
My daughter is in her final 6 months of an MA in social work and her working placement is in child protection. She has to make home visits and write reports which will chnge lives for ever. Quite honestly I don’t know how social workers can do this very important and challenging job; my daughter says the mindset in order to perform 100 per cent is quite complex. But she loves what she is doing and I am very proud of her.
This is a great poem and I will how it to her.
Christine xx
Hi Christine
Thank you for your kind words. It is a difficult job and at times has its rewards. My MA was in Psychology so I worked at both ends. Child Protection and Psychotherapy. You have a right to be proud just keep an eye that she takes care of herself. The turnover rate is very high and there are a multitude of problems in the system. Yet, when I was that child (yes, moi). Nothing was done.
bisous,
Léa
I imagine this was a difficult one for you to write. I feel for you.
I will keep an eye on that daughter of mine (I will always be mum!!)r, though I think she will be fine 🙂
Christine
PS Her first degree was in Sociology and the MA is in social work. My other daughter is a clinical psychologist in a renal unit at a large hospital. So they have similar natures – however my son is in IT – totally different! 🙂 That’s the way of things, he loves what he does and comes in handy for me – he has control of my computer from a distance so when I get things wrong (often) he is on hand!:)
Christine,
It sounds like your daughter is very fortunate and no doubt so are you. 🙂
Actually, it just poured out. Kind of a giant phew! Writing does a lot to heal us.
Léa
I am simply full of admiration
You are kind. Thank you. It is a job nobody wants but someone has to do. Like many others, there were personal reasons we went into such work.
Léa
I have met many social workers in my role as a lecturer and cannot tell you the high esteem in which their ilk is held – it is, for sure, a tough job. Personal reasons for doing it are important. With love xx
Polly, my degrees were all in psychology but I did private therapy for non CP clients and also worked at Child Protection. I was a bit amused when I would show up at a school and teachers were always telling me that they could not do my job. They were surprised when I said I couldn’t do theirs. It takes all of us to make the world go around.
Léa
oh my..this is heart breaking… not easy at all to be involved as well… good for the little boy he got a second chance and can learn to trust again… high respect for the work you’re doing lea
Actually, it is work I was doing. When I got injured on the job (not related to that case) I became expendable and they no longer required my services as I was left with a disability. Things happen for a reason. Since I was not allowed to work any longer, I sold my house and moved to France a life-long dream. C’est la vie! I have no regrets.
Léa
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