Making Sarah Cry © 1998
He stood among his friends from school,
he joined their childhood games
Laughing as they played kickball,
and when they called poor Sarah names
Sarah was unlike the rest,
she was slow and not as smart
And it would seem to all his friends,
she was born without a heart
And so he gladly joined their fun,
of making Sarah cry
But somewhere deep within his heart,
he never knew just why
For he could hear his mother's voice,
her lessons of right and wrong
Playing over and over inside his head,
just like a favorite song
"Treat others with respect son,
the way you'd want them treating you
And remember,when you hurt others,
someday, someone might hurt you."
He knew his mother wouldn't understand,
the purpose of their game
Of teasing Sarah, who made them laugh,
as her own tears fell like rain
The funny faces that she made,
and the way she'd stomp her feet
Whenever they mocked the way she walked
or the stutter when she'd speak
To him she must deserve it,
because she never tried to hide
And if she truly wanted to be left alone,
then she should stay inside
But every day she'd do the same
She'd come outside to play
And stand there, tears upon her face,
too upset to run away
The game would soon be over,
as tears dropped from her eyes
For the purpose of their fun,
was making Sarah cry
It was nearly two whole months,
he hadn't seen his friends
He was certain they all must wonder,
what happened and where he'd been
So he felt a little nervous,
as he limped his way to class
He hoped no one would notice,
he prayed no one would ask
About that awful day:
The day his bike met with a car
Leaving him with a dreadful limp,
and a jagged-looking scar
So he held his breath a little,
as he hobbled into the room
Where inside he saw a "Welcome Back" banner,
and lots of red balloons
He felt a smile cross his face,
as his friends all smiled too
And he couldn't wait to play outside--
his favorite thing to do
So the second that he stepped outdoors,
and saw his friends all waiting there
He expected a few pats on the back--
instead, they all stood back and stared
He felt his face grow hotter,
as he limped to join their side
To play a game of kickball,
and of making Sarah cry
An awkward smile crossed his face,
when he heard somebody laugh
And heard the words, "Hey freak,
where'd you get the ugly mask?"
He turned, expecting Sarah,
but Sarah could not be seen
It was the scar upon his own face
that caused such words so mean
He joined in their growing laughter,
trying hard to not give in
To the awful urge inside to cry,
or the quivering of his chin
They are only teasing,
he made himself believe
They are still my friends,
they'd never think of hurting me
But the cruel remarks continued,
about the scar and then his limp
And he knew if he shed a single tear,
they'd label him a wimp
And so the hurtful words went on,
and in his heart he wondered why
But he knew without a doubt,
the game would never end,
until they made him cry
And just when a tear had formed,
he heard a voice speak out from behind
"Leave him alone you bullies,
because he's a friend of mine."
He turned to see poor Sarah,
determination on her face
Sticking up for one of her own tormentors,
and willing to take his place
And when his friends did just that,
trying their best to make poor Sarah cry
This time he didn't join in
and at last,understood exactly why
"Treat others with respect son,
the way you'd want them treating you
And remember when you hurt others,
someday, someone might hurt you."
It took a lot of courage,
but he knew he must be strong
For at last he saw the difference,
between what's right and wrong
And Sarah didn't seem so weird,
through his understanding eyes
Now he knew he'd never play again,
the game of making Sarah cry
It took several days of teasing,
and razzing from his friends
But when they saw his strength,
they chose to be like him
And now out on the playground,
a group of kids meet every day
For a game of kickball and laughter,
and teaching their new friend, Sarah,
how to play.
Special thanks to Cheryl Costello-Forshey © 1998 for allowing me to use this poem.
