Nuns and social workers
Quietly went about their chores
Bavarian breeze blows
Softly against the cheeks of children
As they sat in the living-room
Rocking, others making unrecognizable noises
Their way of knowing and being
In an unwelcoming world
The sweet aroma of wild flowers
Fill the room
Special needs children:
Innocent, loving, gentle.
The sound of tires on gravel
Brings instant fear to the little ones
Someone shouts: the death people are here!
Those that can, hide away and pray,
The unsuspecting precious ones
Continue rocking and making gurgling sounds,
And smile to the angels.
Social workers and Nuns round them up
Taking them to arriving doctors
(They do not like to be kept waiting)
There are others to see.
The children try to hug them
And grab at stethoscopes
Laughing and smiling
Guardians hold them tight
As needles pierce their skin
Releasing the poison
That silence their hearts
The little souls escorted to Heaven
By awaiting angels
The death people leave
And the house is eerily quiet
Slowly “the others” peak
From hiding places
Taking their spots
And gently rock and sing
Silently nuns and social workers
Like ghosts, float around,
Cleansing the Bavarian house
Knowing the death people will be back.
“Suffer not the little children.”
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