“Mommy, why did he do that?”
my little daughter asks as she
sees a man on the evening news
on trial for rape and murder.
“Mommy, why did he hurt them?”
I had no words to say to her.
I could give her no explanation.
I just wrapped her in my arms
and told her some people weren’t good.
She looked at me with innocent eyes
and she asked me “Mommy, why?”
I shook my head and hugged her tighter
and said I didn’t know.
The other day her grandfather
could not remember her name
and she ran to me and breathed
the question “Mommy, Mommy, why?”
I told her his memory is leaving
along with his youth and I watched her
as tears welled in her little eyes
“Mommy, Mommy, why?”
The doctor draws her blood
and she whimpers and she squirms
and she asks me “Mommy, why are they hurting me?”
I told her they would help her
if she just held still. She reached out
and took my hand when I told her
it would be okay.
The doctor says the news is grim.
She hasn’t got long to live.
My little girl looks to me and touches
the tears trailing down my cheek
and asks me “Mommy, why are you crying?”
I pulled her close to me and whispered
in her ear. I told her that I loved her.
In a hospital bed she lays,
weak and thin and pale.
Her tiny hand is lost in mine.
Reluctantly she opens her eyes
and says it’s time to go. God why?
Why do I have to lose my baby?
I kiss her cheek and watch my baby fade away
and know that I’ll never again get to hear her say
“Mommy, why?”
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