Grandma reads from her book of poetry.

Child of War

A deadly bomb came falling
into our home one day.
A screaming, scheming, hellish bomb
took Mom and Dad away.
Our little babe stopped crying
my sis was taken too.
My little heart is broken
I don’t know what to do.

My sad brown eyes aren’t weeping,
the tears I won’t let fall.
My tight pressed lips are speechless
there’s none to hear my call.
My bruised right hand is bleeding,
I feel no pain at all.
My little feet are weary
I am so very small.

“A little child shall lead them”,
that was the Savior’s way.
It’s not the will of God or child
that makes us children pay.
“All things pass and grief departs”,
I’ve heard my mother say.
But my small world was shattered,
upon that dreadful day.

My feet are stumbling blindly,
and now I often fall.
My body’s getting weary
I am so frail and small.
Tonight? Oh I’ll be sleeping
where ‘ere I chance to crawl.
And Dear God I do protest
the injustice of it all.

Please God, help me to forget
this anguish caused by men.
Help me to be brave and good
and bring us peace again.
One more thing I’m saying, God,
and then I’ll say “amen”.
There’s no peace on Earth tonight,
for me, a child of ten.

Norma Schmid ~ 1941