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Among Children
Philip Levine
I walk among the rows of bowed heads--
the children are sleeping through fourth grade
so as to be ready for what is ahead,
the monumental boredom of junior high
and the rush forward tearing their wings
loose and turning their eyes forever inward.
These are the children of Flint, their fathers
work at the spark plug factory or truck
bottled water in 5 gallon sea-blue jugs
to the widows of the suburbs. You can see
already how their backs have thickened,
how their small hands, soiled by pig iron,
leap and stutter even in dreams. I would like
to sit down among them and read slowly
from The Book of Job until the windows
pale and the teacher rises out of a milky sea
of industrial scum, her gowns streaming
with light, her foolish words transformed
into song, I would like to arm each one
with a quiver of arrows so that they might
rush like wind there where no battle rages
shouting among the trumpets, Hal Ha!
How dear the gift of laughter in the face
of the 8 hour day, the cold winter mornings
without coffee and oranges, the long lines
of mothers in old coats waiting silently
where the gates have closed. Ten years ago
I went among these same children, just born,
in the bright ward of the Sacred Heart and leaned
down to hear their breaths delivered that day,
burning with joy. There was such wonder
in their sleep, such purpose in their eyes
dosed against autumn, in their damp heads
blurred with the hair of ponds, and not one
turned against me or the light, not one
said, I am sick, I am tired, I will go home,
not one complained or drifted alone,
unloved, on the hardest day of their lives.
Eleven years from now they will become
the men and women of Flint or Paradise,
the majors of a minor town, and I
will be gone into smoke or memory,
so I bow to them here and whisper
all I know, all I will never know.

2007-03-26 11:33:29 · 2 answers · asked by alicia 1 in Arts & Humanities Books & Authors

2 answers

I feel A kinship of a caring soul here maybe an older siver haired gentleman who is surrounding this youth, As it was a part of himself too. And he wants to save them from where they are at. To steer them to a right way of passage And yet impoverished to some extent, their innocence comes full circle, As only innocence & wonderment go hand in hand . One who wants to carry them out,or away to a future far brighter knows they do not fully know ,recognise his wisdom

2007-03-26 21:33:03 · answer #1 · answered by kippystewart 2 · 0 0

Hey, I really like this poem. First, it is about Flint, Michigan, a city known for its automobile assembly plants.

Then it is talking about a few things ... youth, and the loss of youth. In Eleven years from now they (the 4th grade children) will be the workers of Flint, they will be dirty and hot and sweaty, they will be the workers of the future. But today the author wants to revel, glory, enjoy their youth, smile at them, laugh with them, and enjoy their today, because tomorrow, in eleven years, they will just be workers and forgotten, except then, they will have their own children destined for the same thing.

2007-03-26 11:39:39 · answer #2 · answered by John B 7 · 0 0

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