We erect fences around construction sites.
We put signs on fences.
Bright yellow warning signs, easy to see,
attention-grabbing
with screaming carmine letters:
“DANGER!
CONSTRUCTION SITE.
KEEP OUT
AND KEEP YOUR CHILDREN OUT!”
Construction sites are inherently dangerous.
Things change.
New things appear out of the dust and confront you unexpectedly.
Old things break and fall
and hit you on the head if you are not careful.
They are like that.
Children have to be protected.
As you think of danger,
of all the unexpected, deadly things that can happen to them,
your breath catches and your heart skips a beat.
You erect fences
and put signs on these fences.
But it is never enough.
The world changes so fast now-a-days
that you can’t keep up.
New things appear daily.
The things you don’t understand can hurt you
and your children.
As the future is being constructed,
you have to build more and more fences
and put up more and more signs
screaming:
“DANGER!
CONSTRUCTION SITE.
KEEP OUT
AND KEEP YOUR CHILDREN OUT!”
Eventually, you end up in a cage,
crouching in the corner, teeth bared,
terrified, but ready to protect your children.
It’s all for them, to keep them safe, to keep them near.
The world under construction is fenced off,
blocked off by the screaming signs.
That’s when they leave.
They climb the fence quietly, stealthily,
trying not to hurt your feelings
or break through the fence
with all their might, screaming defiance.
In the final count, it doesn’t matter.
They leave.
They have no choice.
Their lives are there,
in the changing world being constructed for and by them.
With pity or hatred in their hearts
they leave you in your cage.
Anger turns to dejection.
They will visit.
They will bring your grandchildren,
ignoring the signs:
“DANGER!
CONSTRUCTION SITE.
KEEP OUT
AND KEEP YOUR CHILDREN OUT!”
