Warning: This is a sad video. I can’t watch it w/o crying.
Don’t know who wrote it, but there’s a poem called “My name is Sarah” and it’s a three year-old talking about the abuse she receives at home. It’s a very powerful poem and we hand it to our clients (mothers recovering from chemical dependency) as part of the anger management treatment.
Someone put the words into a video and my God did she do a good job about it.
I’ve worked with abused children one way or the other during my life and it keeps re-afirming my desire to become a nurse and do my best to make a difference. It also makes me appreciate the parents I had. They were strict, yes, but they made me who I am today and I never once doubted their love.
Anyway, here’s the video, have some tissues on hand. I’ll copy/paste the poem under the video (if it doesn’t want to load, just click on the title and it will open the youtube page):
[YOUTUBE=JhJUgIHZwsU]“My name is Sarah, I am but three”[/YOUTUBE]
My name is Sarah
My name is Sarah. I am but three.
My eyes are swollen, I cannot see.
I must be stupid, I must be bad,
What else could have made my daddy so mad?
I wish I were better, I wish I weren’t ugly,
Then maybe my Mommy would still want to hug me.
I can’t speak at all, I can’t do a wrong,
Or else I’m locked up all the day long.
When I awake I am alone,
The house is dark, my folks aren’t home.
When my Mommy does come I’ll try and be nice
So maybe I’ll get just one whipping tonight.
Don’t make a sound, I just heard a car.
My Daddy is back from Charlie’s Bar.
I hear him curse my name and he calls
I press myself against the wall.
I try and hide from his evil eyes
I’m so afraid now I’m starting to cry.
He finds me weeping, he shouts ugly words
He say it’s my fault that he suffers at work.
He slaps me and hits me and yells at me more
I finally get free and I run for the door.
He’s already locked it and I start to bawl
He takes me and throws me against the hard wall.
I fall to the floor with my bones clearly broken
And my Daddy continues with more bad words spoken.
“I’m sorry!” I scream, but it’s now much too late.
His face has been twisted unto unimaginable hate.
The hurt and the pain again and again
Oh please God, have mercy! Oh please let it end!
And he finally stops and heads for the door
While I lay there motionless sprawled on the floor.
My name is Sarah
And I am but three
Tonight my Daddy murdered me.
