(A poem from “Pan’s Footprints” by Andy Jukes)
First, before you offer any advice,
Before you say a thing.
First, take a look at these children that you forced into this world.
Take a long, cold look.
Try, if you can, to see them.
Notice their limps and staggers,
Their blemishes and witherings.
Some you gave them. Some are theirs alone.
Value the scars that they carry
on their knees and in their hearts.
Wounds they gathered whilst you weren’t paying attention.
Look how proudly they bear them.
Be proud of their strength in doing so.
Praise their imperfections.
Do not pretend that it could be otherwise.
Do not plot to make them a perfect doll – your toy.
Do not dress them in your clothes
Nor paint their walls a dull magnolia.
Do not prune them like some bonsai master,
Clipping them to an image in your head.
Let them grow wildly like nettles.
A splendid weed.
Appreciate the insects that gather to feed from them.
Allow them to pollinate your life.
Marvel at the birds that flock to feed upon the bugs,
The hedgehogs that snuffle and shuffle forth
To eat the juicy slugs that feast upon the fat leaves of your wild child.
Take joy in all the life they bring to your garden.
Ask them the meaning of the strange patterns that they have inked upon their skin.
Never make them cover their body in shame.
Never freeze them with a bonny curse:
Never blonde enough, never slim enough, never quiet enough.
Always too force.
See the beauty in the tattered rags they choose to wear
And the twigs caught in their hair.
Lay down the bleach and the cloth.
Turn off the hoover.
Enjoy the silence and use it to hear them explain
why they like having the dog sleep on their bed,
even though you hate the taste of pet hair in your mouth.
Listen to all the stories they want to tell you
About the poets, musicians, and story tellers
That have slept in the bed you lie in when you visit,
Rich with the songs of French gypsies and stories from Cape Verde.
Enjoy your comfortable hotel on the shores of the Italian Lakes
But lend your children your ear and you can travel with them
To the perfect beaches of Sri Lanka,
The holy mountains of Nepal,
And the Great African Plains.
Do not tie them to your suburban window.
Climb with them to gaze in wonder from the panoramic peaks of Kilimanjaro,
To feel a lemur’s grip on your head in the sodden rainforests of Madagascar,
To spend a night under canvas in the Ngorongoro crater, ears alert to lion’s roar.
Do not resent them, chain them, or hobble them.
Watch them, love them, respect them,
Tell you that you see them and set them free.
wolf words and crow speak 