by Abbie Johnson Taylor
My baby brother’s blanket, Bibo, kept him safe.
He carried it with him always,
even after the dog chewed on it.
He refused to give it up
until he eventually outgrew it.
When I was eight or nine,
a friend gave me a Bible.
“I have a Bibo, too,” I told little Andy.
But as I matured,
I found no safety or solace in religion.
This poem is a true story. When I was about eight or nine, and my younger brother Andy was seven years my junior, he had a blanket he called Bibo that he carried with him everywhere. A friend invited me to her church and gave me a Bible. Not knowing the difference, I showed it to Andy, proclaiming that I also had a Bibo. My mother had to explain that what Andy had was a blanket and what I had was a book of religious material. As I grew older, I learned that some people find solace in the Bible such as Andy found in his Bibo.