Defenseless
By PoppyK1@aol.com

I thought I'd seen it all.... after I got home from the war.
A medic then, but now I am.... the county coroner.
I like my job, although I can't explain exactly why
I guess.... you just get used to knowing people have to die.

I guess to die is not enough, within this modern age.
They want to know the reason, to record it on a page.
So, that's the job that's up to me, when people have expired.
I have to find the "cause of death," that's why I have been hired.

Daily it becomes routine, as I go through my pace.
I rarely even notice that the body has a face.
I lift the sheet and go to work, to see what I can find.
And usually the person there has just run out of time.

One thing that used to bother me, I think, more than the rest
Was younger people who had died, by accidental death.
They had their lives.... ahead of them, the world was theirs to take.
And now their lives had been snuffed out because of one mistake.

But then one day I realized, I hadn't seen it all.
When.... they wheeled a gurney in that had been in the hall.
I looked up.... from where I was and saw a little sheet
And underneath I knew the body had to be petite.

A child I said, and underneath my breath, I know I cursed.
I hate to see the young ones here, but children are the worst.
A little one who doesn't even know what life's about.
Who probably had a disease, from birth without a doubt.

I can almost always tell, when I take my first glance
The sickness that would not allow, the little ones a chance.
I stopped what I was doing, just to go and take a peek.
Then.... what I found so shocked me, that I felt my knees go weak.

A little boy of two or three, with bruises on his face
And.... as I pulled the cover down, saw bruises every place.
His little hands were blistered, with some burns from something round
His wrists were cut and blistered, looking like he had been bound.

I started feeling sick and weak, as I leaned on the cart
But, then it changed to raging mad, as I reached for the chart.
"Child abuse at father's hands," was what the ticket said.
Possibility of death, "severe blows to the head."

How on earth is this allowed? I thought I'd seen it all.
How can somebody beat to death, a child that is so small?
I'd read about the child abuse, but did not understand.
But now I fully realize, I've seen it here first hand.

It makes me sick to realize, that child abuse is real.
I know that there are many who have known just how I feel.
That is why today for child abuse, I join their fights.
Because I know that even little three year olds have rights.

This poem is copyrighted and the sole property of James
It is used here with his permission.
Please do not take it or alter it without his permission.
You can contact him at PoppyK1@aol.com
Thanks for respecting the copyright laws
Please visit his site and see why I think it's fantastic
http://www.webpan.com/thelaughin/home.htm