A Child is Born

A child is born. His mother lies unresponding on life-support, her mind gone from drugs and her body ravaged by whoever was in that dark alley that night. Who will care for that small life? Who will nurture his innocence? Who will he grow up to be? A child is born. His mother cherishes and dotes on him. She works two jobs to make ends meet and she must leave him in other people's care for most of the day. Other people who do not love him but abuse his soft young body. Who will heal his broken spirit? Who will nurture his lost innocence? Who will he grow up to be? A child is born. His parents have everything they have ever needed. His mother douses her life in alcohol. His father buries himself in his work. The child turns to his peers for guidance and respect. They lead him to the bliss of drugs and leave him broken in the alley. Who will take pity on his limp figure? Who will nurture his innocent soul? Who will he grow up to be? A child is born. He is a precious resource and an innocent life. No greater gift can man enjoy. We must all accept the responsibility for his existence, if his parents cannot. We must care for his small life. We must nurture his innocence. For when all is said and done, he will grow up to be us. Written August 22nd, 2001 © on Oct 24 2001 06:35 AM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl    0 • 12