She doesn’t remember She doesn’t remember when she first swallowed She doesn’t remember when she swallowed the first stone But now she remembers they are there She wonders about the forgotten ones She remembers – feeling unheard and unseen She remembers – hearing there’s nothing to fear Yet quaking where she lay She remembers – mean names called No friends standing by She remembers – he said no to her But yes to her locker partner The names The ones pushed down The forgotten ones The unkind, hurtful names Four eyes Moose And more But the worst of all… The teacher Sister to a parent’s classmate Play on a last name, Ryan – O Rhino! The teacher laughed Classmates joined in No one saw the shattered face The disappointments The harsh critique The uninterested dismissal The laughing scoffs The stuttering Stumbling words Echo again in Spanish… Her nervous, trembling lips Words stuttered Spanish teacher’s mocking tone Her derision to the stumble, fall A bloody, scraped knee It – the forgotten one – swallowed Tore roughly at her throat Sat hard Grew heavy in her soul Her eyes burned She blinked back the tears She heard a chorus echo Don’t cry or they win So, another one sat Hard, heavy, and unmoving Riskier endeavors came Revealing to a trusted few Less name calling yet Held at an arms’ length Stories not believed Labeled Too sensitive Too emotional Thinks too much Eventually Her heart ached less Some pain processed But the forgotten ones… Sat, hard, heavy, unmoving She froze in pain How her heart Like the forgotten ones Unmoving turned to stone She froze in pain She wondered what gripped her And turned her mind inside out The stones sat hard, grew heavy Drained her soul She swallowed stones Long after she stopped she believed Then, Something broke wide open Inside Like geodes bust wide open In a protective sack Struck with a mallet Beauty revealed Sparkling, translucent, mysterious The forgotten ones Busted open wide But no protection Burn hot like lava Slide down the hillside Cover all, burn more Her instinct Run, scream, cry Pulse strong Overwhelm her senses Beauty yet to emerge She wants Beauty to arise Without the searing pain Ripping her apart But the first necessitates the second The forgotten ones The wounds long ago healed Open anew Fire searing heat Transforming Melting Molding The forgotten ones Unearthed Rumbling Bursting forth Smashed open Searing pain Fire to the soul Beauty emerging In a molten heart Whom shall she serve In her Welder’s name?
