This was written in honor of a little girl who died needllessly, at the hands of her abusive mother. Originally written shortly after her death, I edited and rewrote this poem in 2001

lydia healy II

lydia healy died for our sins
crouched next to the cold porcelain toilet
her tiny body knotted in a fetal pose
futilely hoping against hope
to evaporate into thin air
and escape the blows
that would shatter her tiny bones.

lydia healy died for our sins
comatose
on a cold January morning
her skin cooling to an ethereal tinge of icy blue
surrounded by the perpetual din
of IV pumps and respirators
forcing air into her tiny damaged lungs
while she silently slipped away.

lydia healy died for our sins
at the hands of the mother
who four short years before
first heard her gasping newborn cries
and in a fleeting moment of decency
(perhaps knowing she could not be
the mother this child needed her to be)
offered her newborn daughter
her only chance at survival ...
only to snatch it back a few weeks later
and reclaim her daughter in a fit of self-righteous pique.

lydia healy did for our sins
over four achingly long years
as her older brother watched in terror
thanking god
that it wasn’t his turn
to be beaten with the metal spatula
(or hit on the head with the potato ricer)
or thrown against the wall
during his mother’s ever escalating waves of fury.


lydia healy died for our sins
slowly
painfully
during four long years of torture
a punching bag for her mother’s fury and drunken rages
that went unnoticed by the welfare workers
and pediatricians,
and grocery store clerks
who failed to notice the bruises and burns
that riddled her tiny body.

lydia healy died for our sins
sometime that past november
on a blustery autumn day
when a police officer charged with saving her life
didn’t bother to step inside the apartment door
or even take the time
to glimpse at the battered child inside the door ...
(he could have seized the moment
and saved her life ...
but he had more serious crimes like barking dogs
and speeding tickets to attend to.)

lydia healy died for our sins
slipping away that next april,
one moment at a time
when the district court judge
ignored the dire urgency of her plight
and her painful whimpers,
and failed to recognize the omens of her impending death ...
harbingers of things to come
circling vultures in an ever-tightening vortex
greedily licking their lips ...
waiting for the last breath
to escape her oxygen starved lips that next winter.

lydia healy died for our sins
huddled behind the toilet tank
that January morning
sobbing weakly as her breath slipped away ...
and her fading screams for mercy
went unheard
when her tiny voice was no longer able
to summon a neighbor’s attention.

lydia healy died for our sins
surrounded by the best of resources
and social service experts
and the wisdom of child abuse pundits
(whose attention was diverted
by the need to cut the budget of the burgeoning welfare system
and close the greedy, clamoring mouths
of those leeching welfare mothers
who should get a job or stop having babies anyway.)

lydia healy died for our sins
punished for committing
the mortal sin
of soiling her pants ...
when to her horror and confusion,
her body responded instinctively to the constant stress she was enduring
and her writhing bowels expelled their contents spontaneously ...
to her dismay
she could not hold it long enough
to get to the toilet
(like a good girl would.)

lydia healy died for our sins
surrounded by indifference
as her purple bruises yellowed and faded,
and her burned and blistered buttocks peeled like an onion
time and time again ...
because no aunt or uncle,
no grandparent,
or absent father
took the time
or cared enough
or had the decency
to intervene and save her tiny life.



lydia healy died for our sins
in January of 1995
one more forgotten child ...
(relatively unimportant and insignificant
amid the grand scheme of things)
battered beyond repair
her tiny skull fractured
as it struck the cold bathtub edge again and again,
guilty only
of desperately hoping
her mother would finally love her enough
to stop the torture or give her away.

By Rosalie Sundin,
March 18, 2001
(originally written January 1995)

Stunning. (Grant B.)

Artist, Collagist, Digital Artist, Poet

sins in the name of god and self-righteousness, 2004
Sami decorated Christmas Ornament II
Blue "Sami" decorated Ornament III, alternate view
Swedish "Dalamalning" Dala Horse
"Sami" decorated Holiday Ornament 1
Blue "Sami" design ornament IV, alternate view
Svensk (Swedish) Christmas ornament, view 1
Svensk Dalamalning Light Teal Blue ornament, view 2
Various Svensk, Norsk and Sami Ornaments II
Various Sami, Norsk and Svensk Holiday Ornaments
Norwegian Telemark Rosemaling Dessert Plate
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"Crescent Roll" budvase
Norsk Nordland "bunad" for 12" doll
Dark Blue Swedish Dala Horse, ca 2011
Swedish "Dalamalning" Flour Scoop
my guitar softly II
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Dull Women Have Tidy Houses
Lydia Healy died for our sins
sins in the name of god & self-righteousness
Norsk Telemark Tea Tray
Norsk Telemark endtable side panel
Norsk endtable Panel
the stuff nightmares are made of
Norsk Telemark Rooster Ornament
Norsk Shaded Telemark endtable
Svensk "Valkommen" (Welcome) Dala Horse Plaque
Kalahari
Peacock
Hallingdal Tine box
Queen Min study
St. Paul Cathedral Study II
Oak Study III
MGAA Book "In Our Mind's Eye"
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Norsk Shaded Telemark Christmas Ornament (green)
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