It’s been four months of my personal experience being a community supervisor for the sake of child rehabilitation and community safety. It feels like it has been much, much longer. I have definitely underutilized this wonderful resource of writing to cope with the trauma, relapses, and dysfunction that has become my “daily grind”. Poetry seems to be my favorite outlet, so here it goes:
One of my kiddos is preparing to go to college this month
Yesterday I taught him how to type, go online, and check his email
He is concerned and unsure, his impoverished childhood had no computers
You would have thought I was trying to teach him braille
One of my kiddos just had surgery for birth control
I took her to the doctor – she was relieved and freed
From the pressure she feels daily under her mother and friends
As they compare her to all those around her who succeed
One of my kiddos was ordered to inpatient treatment
He just turned thirteen – his biggest threats are his mother and brother
He hasn’t been sober since he was seven
Being raised by a frail grandmother
One of my kiddos is homeless with a child
His mom’s car was repossessed, so he lost his employment
He failed all his classes when his parents were evicted
Yet we applaud for his 3 month sobriety – such accomplishment
These are my people, this is my caseload
I am witness to success, trial, fear, and life plans slowed
Some days I feel as though I could implode
Yet how beautiful a gift I have been bestowed
To walk with these kids down their tough and trying roads.
