Pledge for the Children

We accept the responsibility for our college students, who eat only gripos and drink sodas,
Who like to be hugged,
Who stomp in and out of our offices and have bad days,
Who sneak up the back stairs without an escort to visit during no visiting hours,
Who put the answers to the exam on two-way pagers and cell phones,
Who can never find the right computer to print out their mid-term exams.

And we accept responsibility for those,
Who stare at photographers and read letters from behind razor wire and steel bars,
Who only see mother for only a few moments after school and before bed time, if at all,
Who cannot afford to get a new pair of boots to protect their feet in the ice and snow,
Who never counted apples or smelled apple pie fresh out of the oven,
Who are born in places, in places and in other places, we tell ourselves don’t exist,
Who are homeless and jobless because they choose to be?
Who sleep in places in places and in other places, where we wouldn’t be caught dead,
Who never left the hood except for the all too familiar taxi to the jail house,
Who thought that school was a place that they could be anything they wanted to be,
Who never go to the zoo, amusement parks or for a swim,
Who have people to aspire to be like those who just got out of the joint, and that’s a good thing?
Who live in an x-rated, nudity, violence and adult situations world.

We accept responsibility for our children,
Who bring us tears and smiles and fistfuls of Cherokee Roses,
Who sleep with the dog and flush goldfish,
Who hug us in a rush and forget their lunch money,
Who just hang out and catch a bullet in the back for just being Black,
Who are felons before they learn their ABC’s,
Who are prosecuted as adults before puberty begins,
Who cover themselves with Neosporin and band-aids and sing off key,
Who slurp their spaghetti a single noodle at a time.

And we further accept responsibility for those,
Who never get a dessert, which have no safe pillow to carry around with them,
Who watch their parents who watch them die,
Who can’t find bread to live,
Who don’t have any rooms to clean up,
Whose picture is not on anyone’s walls or mantles,
Whose boogieman, candyman and monsters are real.

We accept the responsibility for our children,
Who do not have allowances to spend,
Who throw tantrums in the grocery store, church and the parking lot,
Who pick at their food and feed it to the dog under the table,
Who like video games rather than ghost stories, checkers or Uno,
Who put dirty clothes on the floor in the corner of the room and never clean the tub,
Who get a visit from the tooth fairy when darkness falls,
Who don’t like to be kissed in front of the other school kids or in public,
Who can’t sit still in church, temple, mass or during mid-week prayer service,
Whose tears are real and whose laughter is sweet,
Whose smiles will embrace you like a warm old blanket, a cup of hot chocolate, and make you cry.

And we accept responsibility for those, whose nightmares come in the daytime,
Who will eat anything they can get,
Who have never been to a dentist,
Who are not on the favorite uncle or aunt list,
Who stomach’s growl from hunger and who cry themselves to sleep even though it’s the middle of the day,
Who live and move, but have no being.

We accept responsibility for children who want to be carried and for those who must, for those we never give up on and for those, and those, and those who will grab the hand of anybody who will offer it. Extend your hand and change the world.