Would You Deliberately Hurt This Little Boy?

by Allforlove

February 1, 2011

Look at that sweet face and bright smile! Listen to that voice as he sings Ben. It is the voice of an angel, coming from the depths of a soul so sweet, so pure, it could only be from God.

Would you hurt him? Would you give him reason to cry at night?

No, you say? You cannot imagine it? But you did!

You started even then. You denied his gift, and tried to say he must be a 42-year-old midget. That remark hurt him because he didn’t understand. He cried over it.

Still, he kept smiling sweetly and singing his heart out for you. He was like a little songbird trapped in a cage. He could not get out or fly free. All he knew to do was sing, sing his little heart out for you.

Of course, he was already a cunning little showman, too. Jermaine said at about age three he was already looking into the mirror, copying Jermaine’s moves-which, of course, he would soon master, and then surpass.

All was forgiven. How could you not? All he had to do was grin that mischevous smile, and remind you with a song of why he was special, what a shining little star he was.

Did you know he paid for all that joy he gave you with bruises, and the loss of a childhood that most take for granted? It was a childhood where the joy of performing was mixed with smoke-filled nights in seedy, rough bars, and sleep that consisted of a few snatched hours on buses and planes.

Still, he kept smiling and singing for you, beating his wings against that cage.

Would you deliberately hurt this little boy?

No, you say? Look at that face, that smile, listen to that voice! No, this child was a precious gift. Anyone who would hurt this child and give him reason to cry would have to be an evil person indeed. So you say.

Oh, but you did! You hurt this little boy, not once, not twice, but over and over again. He cried himself to sleep, so many more nights than you’ll ever know. You took the smile from his face and the joy from his heart, not all at once, of course, but slowly and deliberately, in the way the most insidious evil works. You battered him with your lies, with your accusations, with your cruel jokes that you thought were funny. I hope it all gave you amusement, because while you were laughing, this little boy was not only crying, but slowly dying inside.

This smiling, sweet little boy with the voice of an angel grew sad, withdrawn, and sometimes angry. His wings beat harder against the cage. But still, he could not break free.

He never lost his smile or his sweet ways. But some days he just felt so battered, so bruised. Yes, some days he did question whether it was worth it, to go on this way.

But he went on. He kept smiling and singing and giving his all, for you. Even when you gave him nothing but your hate, he kept hoping you would love him again. Because that’s all he ever really wanted, was your love. When that was taken from him, it killed him inside.

And that pain grew, until it became a crushing stone on his heart. Every performance became haunted by fear; anxiety. Would you love him enough? Or crush him further with your blows?

He still beat his wings, but the cage only grew smaller; his heart heavier.

Sometimes he ran away from you, searching to find that happy little boy again. There were times when he was so close, yet somehow you always managed to hunt him down, and stick him back in that cage again. You always found yet one more way to hurt him.

What could he do? If he sang for you, you scorned him. When he didn’t sing for you, you scorned him. When he fought fiercely, battering his fragile wings against that cage, you laughed at the spectacle. When he gave up, you called him a coward, a quitter, and many things much worse.

When his heart finally gave up and his wings were stilled, it was not enough. You beat and pummeled his heart, trying to make it start up for you one more time. Why? Just so you could hurt it some more? Even in death, his body was battered and bruised, so many trying to force him to give it his all one last time.

But by then he had spent a lifetime-fifty years-of giving it his all. His body, his soul, his crushed heart, simply had no more left to give.

If asked in 1970 would you deliberately hurt this little boy, I’m sure you would have said no way. Who could possibly be so cruel?

Yet you did just that! You not only hurt him, you killed him. I’m sure you would never have dreamed yourself capable of it in 1970. Maybe you didn’t mean to. But you did.

Who is the “you” of this piece?

Look in your heart after you have read this. Listen to what it says. If it’s troubling you, then you know who “you” are.

But at least if your heart is speaking to you, that’s a good sign. It means you are not a lost cause. The little boy is dead, but his spirit lives on. There are still many things you can do to help make things right again. You can start by helping to clear his name that you blackened-the thing you did that hurt him the most. You can stop contributing to the hurt and slander. You can help to create a new day in which his children will never have to endure the hurt that he did.

If your heart speaks to you not at all, then you are a lost cause and damned. God loves all of His children. One child, in particular, He gave the gift of song, so that he might sing it to you and bring joy to your heart.

God does not like His precious gifts to be rejected. Or hurt.

I know already what some of you will say, those hateful cynics who always defend their hateful actions. You will say, yes but…

That little boy grew up. He made choices. Yes, but…

His heart; his spirit; his sweet soul was still the same-still as vulnerable; still as capable of feeling the brunt of your stones.

This man, that you hurt and drove to his grave with your lies and your “Wacko Jacko” taunts and your endless humiliation, was that little boy. You hurt him, you abused him, and, yes, you killed him.

You may not pay for it on earth. But one day, you will.

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