Tears from Ashes
I watched a little New York girl,
standing in the square.
She was staring at a Christmas tree,
unaware that I was there
The tree was huge, up in the clouds,
where once a building stood.
And underneath that fine fir tree,
were coloured toys of wood.
Red, white and blue and silver too,
the coloured lights adorned.
A golden cross upon the top,
to represent the mourned.
She laid some roses in the tree,
gifts given by a child.
In memory of her mummy,
in a place that was defiled.
She bent and placed a photograph,
beside the wooden toys.
Stepped back and took one last look,
and left without a noise.
I approached the tree and had a look,
at the picture, and it read,.
“To my Mummy, I’ll always love you”.
words written for the dead.
I knelt and prayed for all the ones
that never would be found
And my silent tears just fell on ash,
that lay upon the ground.
I thanked the Lord that someone cared,
and made a child’s shrine.
A headstone fashioned for their loss,
from richly ribboned pine.
I started home, could not forget,
the look on that child’s face.
Memory of her, would forever stay,
in my heart, a sacred place.
So, I will count my blessings,
as Christmas, time draws near.
As I gather my family around me,
I’ll remember that child, so dear.
© Carrie Prattley 2001-11-12