Amber.

by Poet on the Piano   Sep 28, 2016


Lilliana's birthday is in just two days...
Haven't you heard? She'll turn eight this year,
and even though I've never had a sister,
I feel connected to her tanned smile,
warm brown eyes and eager hands as she
asks to take another turn on the merry-go-round.
She's dressed in the brightest of violets,
but we won't see her bloom on this Earth anymore.

Liliana would have been another year older,
her mischievous brother begging her to
play in the woods and maybe build a tree house
and invite imaginary guests to their tea party?

And here I am, on a rainy Wednesday,
breathing without restriction (without fear)
two days after tragedy.
Two days after our small elementary school
was shaken to the core in this country town.

Were you also not able to fall asleep?
That even though Heaven gained a
six and seven-year-old angel in blessed
blue and Batman black-and-yellow,
we still helplessly are drifting our hometown.
Because it's not enough, it's just not.

Parents cling to their children,
mothers sleeping with their babies,
in dismay at a mother's inability to love.
No matter drugs or mental illness,
there is little consolation.

At least, precious souls are safe
whether in a Heaven laden not with
things but memories,
whether reincarnated into the Earth's
most innocent gems,
whether peace in the
form of a rainbow, a flower budding,
a newborn's smile.

And I've heard it all said before,
prayer is a dead man walking -
a selfish way for us to feel better.
But please, it's all I know now
as the baby blue balloons are released
and the Batman costumes and toys thrown
into the air for Heaven to try on.

And I pray that fairytales carried
them beyond their abuse,
that they can now cry into open arms,
instead of ones stained with prison's
brutal promise that a person can
change, that a mother always
knows best.

-

RIP Rene Pasztor and Liliana Hernandez (six and seven, brother and sister) whose lives were taken so suddenly, out of contempt, jealousy, anger...

may you know none of these things in Heaven <3

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Latest Comments

  • 8 years ago

    by Em

    I write this as I wipe away tears... tears for those poor children, tears for women and men alike that are unable to have children when there are people put their willing to sacrifice even kill their own in cold blood.

    This is sad and as Michael says raises awareness, it hit home to me because I feel so guilty for not leaving my ex when he hit me the first time I was pregnant but that I only found the courage to do so after he made me lose our baby and it eats me up each day.

    May these little souls RIP.
    Em

    • 8 years ago

      by Poet on the Piano

      Thank you Brenda, Michael and of course Em.

      Em, my heart goes out to you. I cannot imagine how hard that situation would be. If I may say, I am proud you found the courage to leave although I am so sorry for your loss and that you had to go through that any of that. I pray for peace for you and that the pain gets easier.

      Take care <3

  • 8 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    Writing about death can be difficult. It can drag up our own fears about it. Here we have the worst death: murder, and of a child, and in the worst possible way. How do you write about that? Do you write from the perspective of the child? No, that would create too much reality. Better to explore other avenues, but not in obvious ways; rather like this:

    'Haven't you heard?"
    ^
    To me this powerful prompt, saying, 'hey people, you really should know about this tragedy! '

    This local story is a earthquake; its destruction terrible, but the tremors seemingly failed to travel.

    This poem builds in its sadness; layering information carefully until we reach the funeral. The imagery here, the toys offered up, the receiving arms; both sincere and sinister.

    The last stanza really hit home:

    'Prison's brutal promise that a person can change'
    ^
    This raises questions: does the justice system work? Does the punishment fit the crime? Should murder mean the death penalty? Does the fact that awful crimes like this have become near everyday, meaning, the punishment can be less?

    The truth is poems like this raise awareness. It is awareness that helps form change.

    Thank you for raising mine.

    Take care,

    Michael

  • 8 years ago

    by Brenda

    Oh my heart, this is so sad. I don't and probably never understand how anyone can harm a child. They are our gifts in this world.

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