She was four years old, someone said.

Her hair was the color of a raven’s wing.                                 

Her eyes were black as the darkest night.

If you walked right by, you could hear her sing:        

 

“Jesus loves me, this I know,

For my mommy tells me so.

If I am good, she’ll hug me tight,

Read me a book, and turn out the light.”

 

Mommy and I went down the street.

Mommy walked fast, left me behind.

I tripped and fell on my little seat.

Mommy came back. She wasn’t kind.

 

l cried and cried, and rubbed my eyes.

She slapped my face and called me bad.

“I’m not going to read to you, tonight.”

I lowered my head and I felt sad.

 

What did I do that made her yell?

I was trying my best to walk fast.

I don’t know why she hates me so.

It must be something in the past.

 

She entered the store with me in hand.

She went to the escalator and said.

“Climb two steps, and there you’ll stand.

I’ll come right back for you instead.”

 

I waited for hours for her to come.

I waited until the day was done.

Policemen came and took me home.

She was in the kitchen having some fun.

 

She told the police I had been bad,

That I had decided to  disobey.

So she left the store and went back home

She was going to let me have my way.

 

After they left, she laughed so hard.

I thought she would split herself in half.

I finally got it that awful day.

I was the object of her wrath.

 

I went to bed feeling lonely and blue.

I spent the night trying to figure out,                  

How to be successful winning her love,

And how to deal with all my doubt.

 

When morning came, I bowed my head

I asked God to hear my prayer:

“God bless mommy when she’s mad.

Help me God to be more fair.”

Yu/stan/kema.

 

 

 

 

 

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