Fly with Pan, London

[alexconall]

London McCabe was six years old
and I bet he knew
exactly
what he wants to be
when he grows up.
All children, except one, grow up—

Fly with Pan and the Lost Ones,
London who'll never grow up.
Find peace and joy and excitement
in Neverland as never on earth.
Perhaps Wendy or Jane or Margaret
shall be your mother—
better she than your own.
Fly with Tink and the Lost Ones,
London who'll ever be known
as just one more name on the roster
of Lost Ones who'll never grow old.
We will weep our tears for you,
and hope you are the last,
and work to ensure the fear killed you
is something of the past.



Fly with Pan, London by Alex Conall is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Comments

[redsixwing]

This poem is lovely.
(And I Googled and am now attempting not to tear up. That's horrible.)

Fly high and far, London.

[davidgillon]

Oh, God, another one.

I hadn't caught the story, with being so out of it this week, but my heart just sank when I googled it.

Bad enough that it happens, but then the press compound tragedy with disablism by making the story about the pressure the mother was under, not the fact a disabled child has been robbed of life. It's victim-blaming, pure and simple.

Far better loved in a poem, than subtly recast as the villain of the piece.

(I'm not discounting that parents find having a disabled child difficult, but that is in itself part of the problem society has with viewing disability as truly equal, compounded by the problem society has with providing appropriate support to families with disabled children, and here compounded by the problem society has with providing appropriate support to people with mental health issues)