In the summer of 1996 all of Ottawa was watching the news, hoping and waiting for something good. A 2-year old boy was missing and the family was frantic. This tragedy was unheard of before in Ottawa; or at least rare, I'd never heard it during my history in that city.


The News

Pain, sorrow, sadness
Felt by all
As a child is laid to rest

Beaten and abused
By one with no right
Sad, scared, confused
A child runs with fright

I cannot read the news
The hurt, anger, and pain
Wells up in my gut
As violence is felt crawling
Beneath my skin.

by Lee Down

The boy was found in a dumpster, wrapped up in a garbage bag, dead. Everyone was in shock and the emotions and physical responses were strange. Children have much impact on our souls when their lives are taken tragically from us.

A Crime

A teardrop runs down a cheek
Confused and hurt the child cries
Cries for help, cries for forgiveness
Falling into empty space and stony silence
One to hear but none will listen
The savage attack ending in the final breath.

by Lee Down

Then the truth comes to the surface. He had been sodomized. The bigger shock was that it was the boy's own uncle that was guilty of the crime. Two years old, held between a grown man's thighs while he pounds and rips away; I could imagine the unheard screams that don't understand what is happening. The uncle, high or drunk beyond any coherent thought, didn't even hear the boy's screams.

A few weeks later, I became consumed by the despair the mother must feel. Her child's life ripped from her own bosom only two years after birth. What pain must she be experiencing?


My Baby

Awake, alone and full of pain
A mother tries to sleep
Comforting herself
With a steady rocking
Sleep finally comes
But restless she remains
Tossing as nightmares haunt
Suddenly awakened
By the sound of crying
She stumbles and runs
Down a dark corridor
Opening the bedroom door
She is greeted
By a hollow silence
Again she is reminded
Of the horror
Of her baby's death
Falling to her knees
Hands holding her face
Sobbing and shaking
She cries out in agony
"My Baby!"

by Lee Down


And that was it, life moved on, all of us a little bit raw from the experience. The mother? Who knows? This last poem was less about writing a poem and more about trying to understand and experience the twisted reality the mother must now be experiencing in the trauma of the aftermath.

And we all need comfort.

Peace, Love, Happiness