There is a fine line
between play fighting
and fist fighting.
Two eighth grade boys
poke and prod each other,
occasionally throwing barbs —
all in fun they say.
Until one note strikes
too close to the bone.
A brotherly hug
becomes a head lock,
words are spiked —
pointy enough to wound.
With feelings laid bare,
the boys find the road back
impossible to see,
the path ahead
rocky, protracted.
Fast forward thirty years,
the two boys
reside in places of power.
Long buried anger smolders
beneath polished smiles.
Now
this boyhood hurt
plays out on a world stage.
If we wonder
why conflict
is so entrenched,
we must remember
how fragile the soul is
along the way.
A Reading Life 
Wow, Beth. This poem hit home on so many levels – the things I see in classrooms/hallways/playgrounds as kids take it too far, too often (this line: “words are spiked —
pointy enough to wound.”), and then the push to 30 years later = now, where adults do the same thing. Unburying that anger and navigating feelings – that is fragile and important work. Who will call these powerful folks into that work?
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This is stunningly powerful. The tension, the imagery, and the intrigue work perfectly together.
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This is powerful and thought-provoking. I have never put the world stage together with what I see in my 7th-grade classroom.
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The words that are “pointy enough to wound” can hurt the most and linger the longest. Leading to “long buried anger (that) smolders beneath polished smiles.” Such strong imagery and powerful insight in your well-chosen words.
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I would like to print this and post this all over our DC area; your poetry deserves wide audiences that need to hear this message! “we must remember / how fragile the soul is / along the way.” What a powerline line. Your poem perfectly captures how the phrase “boys will be boys” can be so damaging. Young boys become grown men. Let’s not forget.
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WHat Megan said!! You are a gifted poet! And I know you!!
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